Bedtime Story: Tell Us a Story
by TurtleHeart
Summary: A tale Will tells to the family: his destiny never occured, Jack had amnesia, Elizabeth was in a coma, and he returned home to what he ran away from. What he learns about Jack and his own past... Part One completed.
1. I

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**By the way, i'm not important enough to own anything from PotC except merchandise.**

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Note:

i've made some minor changes in the story including different names, but all is explained and well.

**Bedtime Story**

**-)(-**

_Thinking again, I looked across the London horizon trying to catch a glimpse of that last bit of sunlight then back to stitching Jack's coat. Movement on the bed caused me to look at Jack. Sadly, Jack was still sleeping. It had been days and he was still ill, sickly and weak from a fever nearly costing his life. It left then returned several times while symptoms including severe chills, pain everywhere, and poor Jack vomited anything we gave him. We nearly lost him, but now that was over. Three days he was free from fever and slowly recovering._

_"Tell me story Daddy. Please."_

_I smiled, knowing that voice to be my little James's. "Uncle Jack is sleeping."_

_"No I'm not," Jack's soft, weak voice said. He looked at me. "You can tell him a story if you want."_

_"Daddy 'wake!" Liam screamed as he rushed to lie on Jack. _

_Jack smiled. His eight-year girl, Niamh, jumped on him as well. Decent _

_Lily, his twelve-year-old daughter, smiled at them._

_Edward, Anamaria, and Elizabeth followed the two of them._

_Aidan came in the room with Emma._

_Apparently, everyone wanted to see Jack today and I've seen the pirate much better than this._

_"Daddy was going to tell me story," James told his mother._

_Elizabeth looked at him then me. "Which story is that?"_

_"I didn't know I was telling any stories," I said, completely honest._

_With help from his father, Jack sat up against a pillow._

_"Tell us a story Uncle Will," said Lily._

_"Yes, please Uncle Will," pleaded Niamh._

_"Well, don't disappoint them," said Jack._

_I looked at him then the children. "All of you should be sleeping. It's past all of your bedtimes."_

_"Excuse me?" asked Aidan._

_"You're nine. That does include you Aidan," I corrected. I looked at Emma. "You're seven. That includes you missy. And you James, my little four year old, that definitely includes you."_

_"Pwease," pleaded James. "Bedtime story?"_

_Jack's youngest girl and son were pleading as well, whereas Lily and Anamaria were laughing at them._

_"You tew bes' stowies," said Liam._

_All the children moved around me, pleading with big eyes and pursing their lower lips. That was pure torture. I barely had the will to resist my James but all of them— that was impossible._

_"All right, all right," I said waving my hands about to cause them to move back. "I'll tell you a story."_

_Every one of them smiled and cried out in joy. I waited for them to settle down as I thought. "What story do you want tonight?"_

_"Athair!" cried Liam, causing Jack to blush._

_"Pirates," added Emma._

_"Mummy," said James, curling against Elizabeth._

_Glancing around the room, I drew a deep breath. My eyes fell on Jack as Edward sat beside him to place his palm against his forehead and kiss it. Jack leaned against his father until arms went around him to hold him close. I studied Jack for a single moment, recalling something I had never forgotten about him that he did not know sanely. It accepted the children's requests, each one of them, and something Jack and Elizabeth have asked me about on several occasions. I thought now was a good a time as any to tell this story._

_"I know that look," my father noted as he closed his book to sit backwards in a chair beside me._

_"Wot look?" I asked curiously. _

_"The look that you know something no one else does," my father replied._

_"That's because they were either not awake, on the _Dutchman_, not born, or lost his mind," I replied._

_Jack's eyes moved upward toward a scar on his forehead then looked at me insulted. "I did not lose my mind. I just forgot it and I do remember," he told me, his arms folding._

_"No, you lost your mind because you forgot," I said._

_The children, other than Aidan and Lily of course, looked at me puzzled._

_I took to my stitching again as I began a tale that only I truly remembered._

**-)(-**

_Standing in front the mirror in Beckett's quarters, I slipped my arms through the coat. I had to admit it was a fine coat despite being provided by the Royal Navy from Beckett himself. Ironic actually. I never did take a side however. Whichever side benefited me I wasn't going to back down on the chance to benefit my own needs._

_I was receiving a gift of appreciation from Cutler Beckett personally and respect from the Royal Navy for being thrown off the _Pearl_ by Jack. Jack Sparrow wasn't as bad of a person as I once thought him to be. I did nothing other than hand Beckett the compass. I am glad I at least remembered that I had it. I knew it wasn't wise to upset Beckett and Jones behind my back was assuring to the phrase silent as the grave, the grave being the Caribbean Sea._

_The coat was rather nice. As it was from the Royal Navy the material was velvet. The olive color touched by blue was powerful and rather equaled my mind. I personally looked as though I had more power with this coat. I did actually. I was leading Cutler Beckett to Shipwreck Cove where he would begin the battle. I didn't expect him to keep his word. I learned from Jack not to trust anyone and I didn't trust him most of all. _

_Honesty, which I was lacking these days I'll admit, I didn't trust even Elizabeth. We, as pirates, had our own objectives that we wished to see accomplished. I myself wanted to free my father. With Jack's help if he would keep to his word and release Jones, that would come true and I would be left with Elizabeth. _

_I took my mind from my thoughts to observe myself in the mirror. The coat was perhaps one of the finest I had ever worn. I did wonder who told Beckett to give it to me. It was also a possibility that he was the one who believed I deserved it for going against piracy to achieve what I wanted and, in doing so, lead him to all that he wished to acquire. Did he know my true intentions? That was the single concern I had. If he knew what Jack and I planned before I ended up here he would kill me now. I think he didn't though. He knew all I wanted was to free Elizabeth and I did acquire the compass for him as he requested over a year ago._

_Hearing footsteps, I looked in the mirror. Beckett was gazing quite closely at me._

_"What?" I asked, curious to know where his mind dwelled._

_"Have you considered the Royal Navy as a career? You would make a fine captain," Beckett said._

_I was impressed to see the look of honesty on his face and suggestive tone in his words, though I wasn't going to tell him I would never consider it._

_"What makes you say that?" I asked._

_"You've turned tides to free your father and save Miss Swann," noted Beckett._

_"And what makes you think I'll be loyal to the Royal Navy? I went against piracy to acquire what I wanted and joined your crew to see to it that I get it. I may return to piracy anytime and you won't know," told him._

_Beckett smiled. "You won't because you're a good man. If you do, then I'll mark you as I marked Jack."_

_"Ah, it was you who honored Jack with the brand of a pirate. He deserves it," I said and would always stand by it, not because I disliked him, but because of an event surrounding his mark that I'll tell you about later._

_I turned back to the mirror to admire myself. A thought dwelled in my head. Looking at Beckett in the mirror, I had a question for him. "Would Jones allow me to see my father?"_

_"I wouldn't know that. Why don't you ask him?" replied Beckett._

_"He's still here? I would have thought him to leave already," I admitted._

_"Tell him it's only fair. You're leading him to Calypso after all," said Beckett._

_I smiled. In the mirror, I thought Beckett had placed the smile on my face because it was a smile that reminded me unmistakably of him._

_"Jones," I called as I walked on deck. _

_"Turner," replied a voice from behind me._

_I turned. "You will let me see my father."_

_"What makes you believe I will do that?" asked Jones._

_"Without me, you wouldn't know that the Court intends to free Calypso and you must kill her before they release her," I said, taking Beckett's advice._

_Jones's eyes were once angry. A shadow of sadness passed across them for a single moment. He looked me in the eye and nodded. "I'll allow you to see what's left of him."_

_My eyes narrowed in wonder at that comment. I felt I didn't want to know what he meant. What did that mean? That thought occurred in my head as I stepped aboard the ship. The crewmembers, particularly Maccus, glared at me with a fire in their eyes._

_Mercer greeted me with a smile. "I must admit I thought of you wrong," he said, holding his hand out._

_"My opinion of you hasn't changed," I told him, my hand never leaving my side. He lacked the kind of fair play nature Beckett possessed for even a miniature movement of my hand. My head turned enough to see Jones. "Where is he?"_

_It wasn't long before I was looking into a cell where a crewmember sat molded into the wall. The door was opened for me. This crewmember didn't so much as move. I shook my head._

_"This can't be him," I whispered._

_Jones raised an eyebrow. He motioned to the man with his claw._

_I stepped inside the cell knowing I would be safe because Beckett was right behind me. He knew there was use for me. Stepping closer I saw what features I could of this man. He was indeed once a man. He was like Wyvern a year ago. I knelt, looking at the human features of the face_

_It was my father. He became part of the ship quicker than I thought I would. I don't know why, but I couldn't move my hand to his face. The farthest I got it was to his knee. I was afraid. For the first time in my life, I was afraid of my father._

_"Father," I softly called. "Father it's me. It's Will. I'm your son." My father's eyes cracked open. He stared at me as though I didn't exist. I nodded, a smile coming to my face. "It's me. It's Will."_

_"You're not here. I'm dreaming. I always dream of you coming like you promised, but you never do," he said._

_"But I am here," told him._

_He shook his head, the coral and sea life with it. "No, you're my mind imagining again."_

_I took his hand between mine. "Would you imagine this? Would you feel this if I wasn't here?"_

_He stared at me with the same distant, half unconscious look he had been since his eyes opened. _

_My world seemed to come down. He was gone. I couldn't save him if he didn't recognize me. Well, he did recognize me, but his mind didn't know I was truly here. He was gone and I couldn't do anything. Tia Dalma's words came to my mind. I recalled her telling me that I would have to take what I wanted most in the end. I would have to choose. This was the end. My father was dead. Elizabeth was alive. I had to take her. I knew he would want me to choose her. He did want me to chose her and never come back._

_"Why didn't you come back? You promised you would," I heard my father's voice say in a pleading tone._

_I nodded. "I know I did. I promise you now that I will free you."_

_"You always tell me that. You haven't come back. Still," he said, his eyes growing tired._

_My hand hesitantly reached to palm his cheek. I shuddered feeling his water logged skin and scales upon his cheek. "Father," I called until he was looking me in the eye. "I told you I would see you free of this prison one day. I tell you now; I will see you free of this prison. I promise." I slid the tips of my fingers across his cheek, not wanting him to do what he did. He shut his eyes and was no more to me. "I promise," I told his limp form._

_"Go away Will. You aren't really here. You'll never really be here. Leave me alone," my father's voice pleaded. A moment of silence passed. "You promised me. Why haven't you come back?"_

_Knowing there was nothing more I could do, I stood and turned. I knew what expression was on my face. It was realization and hopelessness. I nodded._

_"There was more of him left that thought," noted Jones._

_"You did this to him," I said._

_"You did Turner. You died," said Jones._

_I turned to my father, knowing I had been dead in his eyes for a year. He sat here willingly for a year because he believed I was dead. He had nothing left in the world now that I was dead to him. He was no more than an ornament to the ship._

_"I promise you," I told Jones, looking him in the eye as I faced him. "He will be free and you will be no more."_

_Jones smirked and chortled as he walked down the hall._

_I turned to my father again. There was nothing I could do, but help Jack stab the heart and take Elizabeth. It's the end and I've made my choice. I chose Elizabeth, because I didn't have a choice._

_"Do you care to rest?" Beckett asked me._

_"Why?" I asked._

_"If there is to be battle tomorrow it would be a shame for you to die because of exhaustion," noted Beckett._

_"You do realize I will fight for piracy most likely?" I wondered._

_Beckett smiled. "Which is why I request that you rest. I want the one who kills you to win fairly."_

_I wasn't going to deny sleep. After all, I was tired. I hadn't slept for two days. It was probably showing on my face that I needed sleep._

_"I suppose I could use a few hours," I told him, hiding that I needed at least a night to rest._

_"I thought so," noted Beckett. "Follow."_

_My feet moved, but my eyes remained on my father. He was helpless and I did nothing. There was something I could have done. I could have chosen him over a year ago, but I didn't. I let this happen to him. I could have saved him. I should have saved him, but I couldn't. Jack was the only one to save my father now and I had to help Jack save him._

_Turning from what was left of my father, I followed Beckett onto the _Endeavor_. It pleased me to know that he granted me permission to use Mercer's cabin to rest as he said he would need rest as well. I wasn't going to deny that I didn't want to sleep here, but I didn't want to sleep here. Mercer slept in that hammock. That was disgusting, so I found every blanket available and pillow and piled them on a sofa chair then used a chest for my feet. _

_I used the arm of the chair for my head and stretched my feet onto the pillow above the chest. More tired than I thought I was, I fell asleep immediately after the blankets warmed and my mind somehow relaxed. I didn't think I would sleep. My father was dead by my doing, I was betraying Elizabeth and the rest of the pirates I had come to call my friends, and it was the eve before the day I would probably die. Somehow, I slept so well._

_That morning, I barely had time to find something to eat. The small armada of pirates appeared on the horizon as the fog lifted. I ate the toast with jam watching them approach, their faint cries of battle becoming nothing._

_Knowing Jack, I knew he would propose a parlay. It was Jack Sparrow. I even told Beckett to expect a parlay. I believe he was impressed when we received the word that parlay was requested. One thing was certain; it would be good to see pirates again rather than the proprietary that was aboard this ship. I was never one for proprietary and I should have been. After nine years of my life proper, I swore I would never do that to myself again and I nearly did all because I loved the daughter of a Governor. It was worth every miserable moment of it. Besides, I wouldn't have been standing on an island in the middle of nowhere looking at the devil's servant standing in a bucket of water. That was one thing one doesn't see very often._

_While negotiations were discussed, I couldn't help but stare at my Elizabeth more than anything. She was more beautiful than I had ever dreamed. She changed before my eyes from a sheltered child, to this amazingly, strong woman. I changed too I admit, but not as much as her._

_It was comforting to also know that Jack was still up to becoming captain. Even more than knowing he was willing, Elizabeth traded me for Jack which meant he was going to be aboard that ship and I wouldn't have to worry much._

_As we walked back to the boat Barbossa, Elizabeth, and Jack used to arrive I couldn't help but wonder what she meant by King. Her response told me that Jack did know what he was doing. All we had to do was stay out of the way and watch him complete what he had to. For once, I trusted Jack Sparrow._

_Everything would have been fine if Barbossa didn't free Tia Dalma. I knew Jones wouldn't kill her. She was his only source for love and he still loved her. I saw the look on his face when I mentioned her name on the _Endeavor_. He loved her still; after all she had done to him. He loved her. But, unfortunately, I knew what that felt like. After all Elizabeth did to me, I still loved her more than anything._

_She was the right choice for me to choose. I understood that while listening to her speak to us about fighting for our freedom and dying for it as well. I had never been more proud of her in my life. She was breaking free from all bounds binding her to fight for what she knew was right. Our pasts were behind us. We were pirates of the Caribbean, Elizabeth and I. We grew into it together and I would die with her if I had to, but I wasn't going to die without making her my wife._

_The more men I killed after we moved into the maelstrom, the more I realized I loved her and if I was to die as Beckett so desired, a mere second of her as my wife would settle my soul. When we did share our first kiss as husband and wife, my world was complete. I chose her and I knew I would never regret a single thing for it._

_Everything went wrong when I noticed Jack to need help. I thought why not. Jack was the only source to my father's freedom and he had done enough for me to earn this favor. As I kept the chest from Jones and the rest of the crew, everything would be all right. So, I set my self to the _Flying Dutchman_ and did just that. It was rather ironic that the Dead Man's Chest lay right in front of me with no one near my side as soon as my feet touched her deck. _

_But, you know this already, you know all that I had done up until this point in my life. Once that chest was in my grasp, everything went wrong. It's confusing what happened and I barely remember it. Jack and Elizabeth don't remember it still. I'll never forget it. It's time I told you what happened all those years ago. You're all old enough now to know. What happened the moment my hands touched the chest sealed my destiny and fate forever and it wasn't as Calypso foresaw inside me the day I set foot in her shack on the Pantano River over a year ago…_

**-)(-**

Will spotted the chest lying on deck. Knowing Jack would need it at any given time, he rushed forward, took it into his grasp and turned away, barely missing debris. He walked along, dodging all swords until Maccus locked eyes with him.

"Turner," the shark noted.

Fear came to Will's eyes. _Think like Jack._ He told himself. _What would Jack Sparrow do?_ As Maccus moved forward on him, 'Jack' the Monkey came screeching and clung to Maccus causing them both to fall.

Will looked down at the monkey. "Thank you 'Jack'," he said, not quite having that in mind.

Seeing Jack above him, he moved forward until he was slammed in the head. He fell to deck, the chest falling from his grasp. Arming himself, he took his sword into hand as he stood. He was unable to move for the slightest of seconds as he realized who gave him the blow to the head. His heart broke as his father swung at him. He parried. Not knowing what to say, he continued to fight his father's sword away. Finally grabbing his father's arm, he looked into his eyes.

"It's me. It's Will," he called. Bill's eyes widened as he came back. "It's your son."

Bill's hand reached slowly toward his son's face, appearing that he would palm his son's cheek. The look of hatred and anger flashed in his eyes. Instead of gently touching his son, he pulled at Will's hair then rammed him against the captain's cabin.

Will's eyes widened as he ducked the sword that would have gone through his chest. As he moved, he knocked into someone else. Frightened by it a bit, he turned with his sword raised.

The man blocked his sword. "Where's Jack?"

Will stared at the man, who looked nearly exactly like Jack. "I don't know."

"The chest?"

His eyes gazed across deck.

The man pushed him behind him as he moved forward.

Will slammed against deck again, his head bouncing hard. He lay on deck, his senses blinded by the impact. When his mind cleared, he was gazing upon the chest. He reached for it and grasped it again.

"Bill Turner. William. Bootstrap Bill, come back. This isn't you. Protect your son. William, come back!"

Will turned. The one who looked like Jack was pleading with his father. Somehow, the two knew each other apparently. A sword went through Bill's chest. Will stopped breathing as the chest fell from his hand. He rushed to his father's side, pushing the man aside.

"Father," he whispered, setting his hands on his father's shoulders.

Bill Turner's sword came around across his son's torso.

Will screamed in pain until there was no more breath inside of him. He fell onto his back and lied on his legs. He wasn't able to breathe. His eyes immediately blurred. He touched his chest. Glancing at his hand it was red with blood. Feeling his blood rush from his body, his torso weighed down upon him. The sour taste of blood pooled in his mouth. He coughed and choked.

Jones approached Will. He looked down on him then turned to Bill, who stared down at Will in confusion. Jones laughed aloud. "Am I to understand this was an act of compassion as well?"

Bill's mouth dropped as his sword slipped from his hand. He fell to his knees and brought Will against his chest.

Will breathed sharply, an expression of pain succumbing across his face, but he did not have the strength to cry out.

Shaking his head, Bill screamed in agony. He threw his coat off his body and pressed upon Will's chest with all the strength he had inside him.

Will's eyes opened. He looked at his father. His breaths were weak, struggled gasps. He attempted to reach for his father's face knowing it was his father again. The effort being too great, his hand fell upon deck. Sudden convulsions overcame him, as he was rapidly losing blood.

In the break of fighting, Elizabeth turned her head to fight at her back. Her eyes fell upon her husband. Her shriek echoed in the maelstrom. Petrified and overcome with fear and pain, she was defenseless.

"I can allow you two to join each other," Jones's cold voice came.

Elizabeth looked at him. Furious and believing he was the one who hurt Will, she turned on Jones, pouring all her energy into causing him as much harm as she could.

It was mere moments later when Jones took advantage of her exhaustion. He whipped her around, the force of it causing her to lose balance.

Elizabeth slammed her head into the rail then on the corner of the helm stairs.

Jones moved toward her limp form. He raised the sword over her body.

"I wouldn't do that," Jack Sparrow's voice called.

Jones turned. His eyes widened in confusion and wonder, as Jack was holding his heart in the palm of his hand. "You must choose Jack Sparrow. Who deserves to live more?" He motioned to Elizabeth. "Her, your love?" To Will. "Your friend whose life is near an end?" His eyes narrowed on Jack. "Or your own for immortality?"

Jack's eyes went between Elizabeth and Will, horrified and ruined.

"You won't have to choose Jack."

Jack turned. "No, I want to. Why do you care about me?"

"Why do you think I'm here?"

Jack looked at his father then suddenly realized why he was here. He shook his head as he raised his broken sword over the heart. "I know what I have to do. For the first time in me life I know what I have to do."

"No you don't," Edward told him.

Jack's eyes narrowed into a glare. "Yes I do."

"I won't let you!" Edward shouted as he drove Jack away from Jones.

Jack's hand lost hold of the heart. He was shoved against the mast. Furious, he pushed past his father.

Edward grabbed Jack's arm. He rammed Jack against the rail and held his son there.

The two stared at each other, everything else becoming blind to them.

"I love you Jack," whispered Edward. "Always know that."

Tears formed in Jack's eyes as his mouth opened. He realized it was true.

Edward shut his eyes as he whipped his son around, slamming Jack's head against the mast.

Jack didn't have enough time to cry out. He fell into a limp heap upon deck.

Edward came around again. Unaware of anything else but the beating heart of Davy Jones, he fell to his knees in front of the heart.

Jones moved upon him, suddenly realizing what he meant, but not quick enough.

Edward's knife went through the heart of Davy Jones, stilling it forever.

The captain stood shocked and overwhelmed. Peace and relief filled his eyes as he tumbled from the ship into the center of the maelstrom.

Captain Teague dragged Bill from his son. "Steer us out of this mess. He won't survive underwater."

Bill went to the helm, turned the ship from the swirling waters then rushed back to his son's side. Though he was a member of the crew, he was the only one that did not surround Edward as the ritual was taken place, his heart and duty changed to his son now. Since there was one mass, he glanced around the ship seeing Elizabeth and Jack lying limp. His arms stopped trembling. He whipped his eyes to his son. Will was lying still in his arms, his face deathly pale and breathing hardly noticeable.

"Stay with me son. Will, please," he pleaded, pulling his boy closer to his chest. He pressed Will's ear against his chest. "Stay with this. Listen to this. Don't think about anything other than this. Don't let yours stop beating. Please."

Sudden silence came upon the crew as they backed away.

Edward breathed deeply as he sat up. Supporting himself, he slammed his palms to deck. His stomach churning and chest burning, he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Move toward the _Endeavor,_" he ordered.

Maccus nodded as he went toward the helm.

A few seconds later, Edward took command of the helm.

The _Flying Dutchman _and _Black Pearl_ came across both broadsides of the _Endeavor_. The powerful leader of the Royal Navy was taken by flames and slowly sank beneath the waves.

Around calls of victory sang out from every ship, but one.

Edward knelt beside Bill.

Bill looked at Edward, tears pouring across his cheeks. The starfish slid down his face from the tears. His hand was grasping his son's wrist.

Edward saw the look in his eyes. He shook his head and took Will's other wrist in his hand.

"He can't be saved," whispered Bill.

Edward nodded. "Yes he can."

"No he can't," whimpered Bill as he pressed his face into his son's hair. "I killed my son. I murdered my little one."

"And ya shall heal him."

The entire crew backed away from the one now known as Calypso.

She looked down on Will. "My powers have been restored. I bring back Barbossa from da dead before I was free. I can heal him. It be simple now dat I no' trapped in a single form." She knelt. "Move ya coat."

"He'll lose the rest of his blood. He's barely hanging on to the last thread of life!" cried Bill, protectively holding his son.

"Do ya wan' him ta live or no'?" asked Calypso.

Bill moved the coat away.

Calypso pressed her palms across Will's heart and belly.

"Don't worry. We'll take him to Shipwreck Cove. He'll be fine there," said Edward, squeezing Bill's shoulders.

Bill stared at his son's colorless face, gently caressing his forehead and cheek.

* * *

Bill Turner's situation hardly changed. He sat beside his son on the bed, which Will rested upon continuing to caress his cheek.

Will was breathing steadily in deep, slow breaths. The white tunic he wore was not buttoned exposing the bandages thickly wound around his torso and left shoulder as well as the blanket only covering to mid thigh. Color was back in his face and warmth in his skin.

Bill watched and waited.

Three soft taps on the door broke his connection. He turned his head to Gibbs.

"How is he?" the old sea dog asked.

"Alright," replied Bill. "What about Elizabeth and Jack? Are they awake?"

Gibbs shook his head. "I'm not quite positive at the moment, but I believe Elizabeth cracked her skull. As for Jack, he bruised his skull terribly. He has a severe concussion. I hope the two of them will make it through the night. I don't know."

"Where's Edward?" asked Bill softly.

"Sitting closer to Jack than you are to Will," replied Gibbs.

Bill turned to his son. "He loves Jack more than anything in the world. Jack never knew. Jack never will know."

"Jack has his father," noted Gibbs.

"Until sunset," replied Bill. "Edward made himself captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ to spare Jack from that fate. He surrendered his soul to save Jack's."

"And you?"

"I don't know."

Will painfully moaned as his palm moved across his chest. His face twisted into such pain that brought tears to roll from the sides of his eyes a mere moment later.

"Breathe little one. I know it hurts but you must breathe," whispered Bill, palming his son's cheek.

Will's eyes opened, immediately seeing his father. He looked at his father seeing him for the first time since he was three. His father was human again, not consumed by sea life and in a change of clothes. His hand upon his chest reached up.

Bill took his son's hand and pressed it against his cheek, sparing Will the effort.

"You're free?" Will asked softly.

Tears came to Bill's eyes as he shook his head. "No," he replied.

Will pulled his hand back as he shut his eyes in pain. It was not pain from his body; it was pain from his heart.

Bill leaned closer to his son. "You freed me from Davy Jones Will. That was the freedom you promised me." He brushed loose curls from his son's face. "Will, the new captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ saved me from Jones."

"Who?" asked Will.

"Captain Teague," replied Bill then added. "Jack's father."

Will's eyes turned away as his mind processed what was just told to him. Jack had a father?

Heavy, slow footsteps approached. "Bill, we have to leave soon."

Bill Turner shut his eyes and nodded as he held his son's hand tighter.

Will looked at the new captain of the _Flying Dutchman_. He noted the similarity between Jack.

Edward stood beside Will. "Will, I need you to do me a favor and I will do one for you in return." Will gave a faint nod of his head. "Give the chest to him when you feel the time is most opportune. I need you to look after him for me. He's going to be a bit of task to manage, but I think he'll be out of his mind for quite some time because of his head. In return, after the souls Davy Jones neglected are ferried your father is free to be with you. The Sea Goddess has given me permission and will bring your father back to life after helping me. She feels someone will have to help you look after Jack."

"After you're done we can be together?" asked Will.

"Aye, but you need to take care of Jack for me," reminded Edward.

"All right," whispered Will.

"You have a moment to say what you want. We have to leave," Edward told Bill.

Bill Turner nodded. He said nothing. Instead, he pressed his lips onto Will's forehead. After a moment, he smelled his son's soft curls. Faint vanilla and the sea.

"Father," Will's voice softly called out. With a teary smile on his face, Bill looked into Will's eyes. "Don't leave me."

"I have to for us to be together," said Bill.

"I want you here with me. Everything hurts," said Will.

"You'll be fine. Josh will be here to ease the pain. Elizabeth and Jack will come around in a few hours. You need to rest is all," said Bill.

"I want you," whispered Will.

"And you'll have me, but not today," replied Bill. He pulled a silver chain from around his neck, let the chain fall into the palm of Will's hand, and shut his hand. "You and I and your mother will always be together now. I trust you to keep an eye on it for me."

Will nodded.

Bill turned to the window. He slumped. His eyes gazed upon his little one. A smile widened across his face. He caressed Will's forehead and cheek one last time. "You know I love you?"

"I know," whispered Will.

Bill pressed his lips on Will's forehead. "Watch for me." He turned and walked from the room.

Will stared at the doorway. Sharp, burning pain consuming his chest, he cringed. His other cheek fell into the pillow as his eyes opened. He gazed at the last light in the sky. Above the cliffs that surrounded the cove was a light that shined in the small cove as well. The light was green and lasted for a mere moment.

Knowing his father was gone now, he opened his palm. Strung to the silver chain was a ring of woven gold inset with diamonds and sapphires. Beside that was a simple gold ring with a simple diamond. His parents' rings. A smile widened across his face as he clutched the necklace across his chest over his heart joining his family again for the first time since he was three.

A scene came back to Will's eyes. Instead of the darkness that fell with the sunset, it was morning light shinning in the room. There was a warm blanket that covered to his shoulders. His chest burned and throbbed.

"Ow," he moaned aloud.

"Easy Will. Lie still."

Will turned his head. "Josh, my chest burns."

"I know. It's healing. Someone cut your chest and stomach. We barely held onto you," said Gibbs.

"Where's my father?" asked Will.

"He had to leave Will. He and Captain Teague have a duty to complete," said Gibbs.

Feeling the rings in his palm, Will looked at the two rings again. Everything was true. His father was gone from him again.

"Where are Jack and Elizabeth? Father said they would be awake in a few hours. It's been all night," said Will.

Gibbs nodded. "I know, but neither of them have woken yet. You're the only one who didn't receive a concussion. Their heads are bruised and beaten. Your torso is the equivalent to their heads."

"It's cut and burning?" asked Will.

"No. It's bruised and cut," replied Gibbs.

"What about everyone else?" wondered Will.

"They are fine. It was just the three of you that took serious injuries," said Gibbs.

"That's because we were the only three that went aboard the _Dutchman_ to end the battle," said Will.

"The three maddest ones of all is more like it," Gibbs muttered to himself.

Wills squeezed his eyes shut as he set his palm across his chest. "Why does it burn?"

"Perhaps it has something with being alive?" suggested Gibbs.

"What?" asked Will.

"Tia Dalma, Calypso- whatever she prefers now -saved your life Will. You didn't die because of her hand and powers," said Gibbs. "I didn't know your father knew how to stitch wounds as well as he did."

"My father stitched me?" asked Will.

"He wouldn't let anyone else touch you," added Gibbs.

Will smiled softly. He pushed himself up with his elbows then palms. Resting his back against a few pillows on the wall, he exhaled deeply.

"Will, you shouldn't be getting up so soon. You said it yourself your chest burns and hurts," noted Gibbs.

"But I'm fine. I want to see my wife," said Will. Gibbs looked at him awkwardly. "Barbossa married Elizabeth and I. I want to see her."

"You need to rest today," advised Gibbs.

"I slept last night," said Will.

"Your father would want you to lay in bed and rest. He would force you back down and make you lay here," noted Gibbs. "I knew enough about Bill to know that."

"You're not my father are you?" asked Will.

Gibbs said nothing. He shook his head. "No, I'm not your father Will."

"Then let me do what I want," said Will.

"Calypso kept you alive not healed you," said Gibbs. "Don't overdo it."

"Don't worry about me Josh. I can take care of myself," said Will.

"Your father just wanted me to keep an eye on you," added Gibbs.

"Keeping an eye on me does not mean watch my every move," said Will. He motioned to the door. "You can leave now."

Not going to do this with Will at the moment, Gibbs turned to leave from the room.

"Your father cares about you more than anything Will. Don't hurt yourself anymore than you already are," he requested.

"How am I going to do that?" Will asked himself.

He threw the blankets aside, choking back a scream. The pain in his chest multiplied down to his belly and side. Apparently it wasn't just his chest that was cut. His torso burned and throbbed with each beat of his heart. He held his breath for a moment, trying to ease the movement of his chest. The pain caused him to breathe harder after a moment.

"What happened to me?" he asked himself, feeling the bandages.

Will's eyes narrowed in confusion. He brought his hand to his left shoulder where the bandage was wound around it. He felt his chest and belly, feeling the cloth wind around his torso. Curious, yet still pained, he glanced around the room for a mirror and found a small one in the corner.

Walking was more difficult than he imagined. Coming closer to the mirror, he saw that only his right shoulder was free of bandages. On his left shoulder, the bandages consumed the skin, touching his neck. Whoever bandaged him overdid the amount, but wound them around him with such care and skill. Without doubt, he knew it had to be his father. If Bill stitched him then he probably bandaged him as well.

Hiding the amount of white rather than skin, Will buttoned his tunic but the last two. A blue coat was draped across the chair. He took it, slid his arms through the sleeves then walked from the room.

It was an hour before he finally reached the main hall. When he did, his breaths were heavy and pained.

"Mates, one of them is alive!" cried Ragetti.

"Hello Will," greeted Pintel.

Will nodded his greeting as he clutched the doorframe.

Gibbs gave him a look that would have killed him if looks had that talent to kill. Instead, he sat Will in a chair, gave him water, and checked the bandages for blood.

"Can I ask what brought this on?" he asked.

"I don't know where Elizabeth is. I want to see her," said Will.

"You're going back to your room Will. You need to rest more," said Gibbs, taking Will's arm.

Will pulled away. "If you think you know my father as well as you say you do then you know that when he has something on his mind he won't rest until it's accomplished? I want to see Elizabeth and Jack. You can help me or not. I would prefer that you do help though."

"Will you sit at her side and rest?" asked Gibbs. Will nodded. "Fine."

With help from Joshamee Gibbs, Will was brought into his Elizabeth's room. He was sat in a chair beside her side and given a blanket to wrap in.

Will looked at her face. She was so pale and lifeless appearing, yet her breaths were natural and steady. There was something about her that didn't seem right. He brushed a piece of hair from her face then caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers.

"Something is wrong. I can feel it," he noted.

"Something is very wrong. You are correct saying that Will," said Gibbs.

Will looked at him. "What happened to her?"

"I don't know what happened, but I do know what she received from it," said Gibbs. He drew a deep breath. "Her head took a deep impact into something, most likely a corner from the appearance of the wound, managing to crack her skull."

"You said she bruised it," noted Will.

"I've had time to look over her and Jack. Will, she cracked her skull," said Gibbs.

Glancing at his Elizabeth, he saw the black bruise above her left eye. He rubbed his finger across it, feeling unevenness below the swelling. Still, he didn't see what was horrible about it. He turned back to Gibbs.

"What does that mean?" he asked.

Gibbs slumped his shoulders. He bit his lip as his eyes wandered around the room in thought.

"It's not good isn't it? You can't say it," noted Will.

"William, I was a surgeon during my days in the Royal Navy. I've seen many wounds including cracked skulls. It's a miracle she's still alive," said Gibbs, looking at her impressed.

"What is wrong with Elizabeth?" asked Will, concern and fear coming to his eyes and voice. "Is she going to be all right?"

Gibbs shrugged. "I don't know Will. I can honestly tell you I don't know what's going to happen to her because there is nothing I can do for her."

"Then she's fine?" assumed Will.

"Perhaps," replied Gibbs.

"When do you believe she'll wake?" asked Will.

"I…Will, I…" began Gibbs, his mouth moving into the words, but no clear sounds coming through.

"What?" asked Will, his heart causing his entire body to begin trembling. Gibbs shook his head and shrugged. Will processed that through his mind a moment then turned to Gibbs. "You aren't certain if she's going to wake?"

Gibbs nodded. "Her skull was cracked. Blood, if not, bone entered her brain. I don't know if she'll wake ever again Will."

"But she's breathing normal and has a normal heartbeat," said Will.

"She's alive Will, and she'll remain in this state until she wakes. If she wakes," said Gibbs.

"You meant to tell me that I might never speak with my wife again or look into her eyes?" wondered Will, his voice beginning to choke from the tears.

"I'm sorry Will. I can't do anything. Her fate is in her own hands. No one can do anything for her," whispered Gibbs.

"Someone has to be able to do something. She can't just stay like this forever," said Will.

"Not forever, just until she dies which will be soon I'm sure," noted Gibbs.

"Don't say that!" Will screamed.

"Will, she's slowly dying. Her mind is dead for all we know. No one can explain why this happens. Very few wake from this state. Their minds are dead and unable to send signs to the body to keep fighting. They usually die within a few weeks or months depending on the care given to them. You can't do anything for her Will," said Gibbs.

"I have to!" Will cried. "She's my wife. I'm not going to let her die. She can't die. I just married her. We finally married. We were barely married half an hour before all this happened. Why is this happening? What did she do to deserve this? I should be the one who is suffering as she is."

"Then she would helplessly watch your body rot to death instead," whispered Gibbs.

Will shook his head as he squeezed his eyes shut. Tears fell onto his Elizabeth's face. Beyond the pain that he was already in, he pulled her into his arms against his chest. He shook her lightly then harder.

"Wake up. Elizabeth, please wake. Don't make me do this. Don't make me watch you die like this. Wake up. I love you Elizabeth. I can finally call you my wife. Don't leave me here alone. I need you beside me. I need you Elizabeth. You have to hear me. You have to wake. I can't live without you love. I need you. I can't survive without you. Please, wake up Elizabeth. Please don't leave me like this. Elizabeth, _please._"

His pleading did nothing beside cause him to lose his voice. Tears rolled gently down his cheeks onto her face.

Elizabeth did not so much as twitch. The only movement was her breath steadily rising and falling her chest in Will's arms.

Will's trembling hand fell from her shoulders. He pulled her face against his chest, before resting his jaw on her head.

"I promise you Elizabeth, I'll take care of you. I'll find a way to make you wake. I won't abandon you like this. You have to believe me. I won't leave you alone. I'll look after you. I'll find a way. I promise. I love you."

His words became tears of sorrow and grief. He buried his face against her hair, letting his tears pour from his eyes. His back trembled and breaths taken in painful gasps. He rocked back and forth praying to every god he knew to make her wake.

This wasn't going to happen to him. He married Elizabeth finally. She wasn't going to die like this. He would make sure of it. He promised her years ago that he would always look after her. It wasn't going to end like this. She would be fine and wake and they would be together.

Elizabeth Turner was going to wake. He swore on her life that he would to do anything to look into her eyes one last time before letting her go.

Joshamee Gibbs felt the need to rub Will's back. He felt terrible for Will having to do this. Though it probably wouldn't have mattered much, he wished Will hadn't married her yet. Will was now attached to Elizabeth in all ways but physically and he would have to suffer her this way for an unknown amount of time.

Stirring, Will opened his eyes. He gently caressed his wife's cheek with the back of her fingers. "It's just a dream," he whispered to himself.

"It isn't a dream Will. All I told you this morning is true. She-" began Gibbs.

"Please, don't tell me again," pleaded Will. "I don't know what I'm going to do."

"You're going to live and take care of her," Gibbs told him. "You are the only one she has left."

"So Jack's dead now?" wondered Will.

"Jack's alive. You should go to him Will," said Gibbs.

"Why?" asked Will. "Why should I go to Jack and not stay with my wife?"

"Because Jack has no one but you. Edward wanted you to look after Jack for him until Bill is free," reminded Gibbs.

Will slumped as he exhaled. He turned to Gibbs. Rolling his eyes he walked out of the room.

"First door on your right," added Gibbs.

Will walked past the room with a glare on his face. He swung the door to the first one on his right. Indeed, Jack was lying on the bed calmly breathing. He stood over him.

"Jack looks fine to me," he muttered to himself. He walked around Jack. "Oh, then again, he doesn't look so fine."

Above the corner of Jack's right eye on his forehead, blood stained the bandage.

Will wasn't sure which one looked worse anymore. Elizabeth looked comfortable while Jack's face twisted in pain every few moments. Since Jack was his friend, he removed the old bandage and pulled out the old stitches. He replaced the stitches on Jack's forehead then wrapped another bandage around his head.

"I never thought I would see Jack Sparrow injured," he admitted to himself. "There's a first to everything though."

He tensed as he stretched his torso more than he had since waking. Seeing as he was already at Jack's side, he sat in a chair. It didn't matter to him. Nothing mattered. Elizabeth was never going to wake. Jack probably wasn't going to wake. He thought he might as well stab himself and join his father now rather than wait a few months.

The burning returning to his chest, he pressed his palm against the bandages. One thing he knew completely, his father was a typical-over-protective-worried father when he was bandaged. He couldn't help but to wonder the amount of cloth that was wrapped around his torso as well as the length of thread it required to stitch him.

"My head hurts," Jack softly groaned.

Will smiled. "At least someone is awake," he said as he knelt to Jack's level.

Jack opened his eyes. He looked at Will oddly.

Will returned the favor. "You're looking at me like you've never seen me in your life Jack," he said.

"What's a 'Jack'?" wondered Jack.

"Your name Jack Sparrow. Obviously," said Will.

"Name?" wondered Jack. "What is a name?"

"A name is something you use to call something," said Will slowly, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

"Oh," said Jack. "What do you call you then? What do you call me? Do you know what I'm called?"

"Jack Sparrow. Your name is Jack Sparrow. Rather, your name is _Captain_ Jack Sparrow," said Will, enunciating his words.

"So," began Jack, looking at Will with thought on his face. "Is everyone called Jack?"

"My name is Will. I'm called Will," said Will.

"Why are you called Will and they call me Jack?" wondered Jack. "I don't understand. Everyone is called something else. That makes no sense."

"No, Jack, you don't make sense. What are you talking about? You know me," Will told him.

"I do?" wondered Jack.

"Aye. You've known me for over two years," said Will

"I have?" wondered Jack. He looked past Will, thought and confusion upon his face. "When did we meet?"

"Josh, get in here!" Will called.

"What is a 'Josh'?" asked Jack.

**-)(-**

_"Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute!" cried Niamh, shaking her hands about hysterically. "Daddy _lost_ his memory?"_

_I nodded. "Completely."_

_"How?" asked Niamh with a squeaky voice._

_"That was my doing," said Edward, still ashamed to admit it. I noticed his face went more regretful this time than any other. "I slammed his head against the mast harder than I thought."_

_"How did that make him lose his memory?" asked Lily._

_I shrugged._

_"No one can explain why it happens," Alexander said as he walked in with Richard behind. "It just does. Pressure and swelling on the brain is dangerous and possibly fatal. Your father was fortunate he only lost his mind temporary."_

_"Why didn't you invite us to your story?" asked Richard. "After all I've done for you."_

_"Grandfather please," I said, not wanting him to place more shame upon me. "You should be happy enough to see me in London again."_

_"This isn't exactly where I wanted to spend my one day, but Jackie was dying after all and I suppose he needed medical attention," said Edward._

_"You're lucky you were in Scotland," said Alexander, looking at Jack. "We would have lost you were you at sea."_

_Jack slumped, as his face went pale. He looked at me. "This wouldn't have happened if you wanted to take Aqua de Vida with me. I would be immortal."_

_"I had nothing to do with it Jack. Your amnesia changed your mind about life. I know you want to live life as it should be. Your life was altered enough by it. More to the point, Edward will stab you every time he sees you for taking water. There are alternatives to immortality," I said._

_Jack nodded. "I know. It's the dying part of it I'm trying to avoid."_

_Alexander chucked at that. "You're doing an excellent job of that."_

_I knew we were all glaring at him._

_"Can I continue?" I asked._

_"YES!" the children screamed at once._

_I drew a deep breath and continued. _

_Anyway, Jack just asked what a Joshamee Gibbs was. Poor Josh was, well quite honestly, I don't know how to describe the look on his face other than realizing everyone was right about Jack. Jack Sparrow finally did loose his mind after all…_

**-)(- **

"Jack you've known me since you were a little lad," reminded Josh.

"Oh," said Jack. "You know me too then?"

"Of course," replied Josh. "Why wouldn't I know you?"

"When did we meet again?" wondered Jack.

Gibbs turned to Will and pointed at Jack with a look of horror upon his face.

"Jack, I'm going to talk with Josh by the window. You stay here. I will be right back," said Will.

"A window?" asked Jack. Will pointed to the window. "Oh, all right."

Will went to the window and leaned against the wall, looking out to sea.

"Jack," was Gibbs's only word.

"He woke like this. He doesn't remember who he is," said Will then elaborated. "He didn't remember who I was or you apparently. He doesn't know what a window is either."

They turned to Jack who was looking at his dreadlocks in curiosity. He looked at them and waved.

"I'm still here," he said.

They attempted to smile at him then turned back to each other.

"What do we do?" asked Will.

"I don't know," replied Gibbs. "I've seen sailors like this before."

"And?" wondered Will, leaning closer as if to cause him to elaborate.

"He has amnesia Will, severely," said Gibbs.

"What does that mean?" wondered Will.

"Jack Sparrow has lost his memory and may never remember a single moment of his life again. He may recover his memory or not. I've seen men remember after a few hours, yet there are those who, even after a year journey to return to London still have no memory of anything," said Gibbs.

"He's Jack Sparrow, he'll remember," said Will confidently.

Gibbs turned to Jack who was now rubbing his tattoo on his wrist and apparently becoming frustrated, as it wasn't coming off. "I don't know Will. I honestly tell you I don't know. Jack took an unforgiving blow to the head."

"How?" asked Will.

"He was slammed into the mast taking the impact upon his head mostly," replied Gibbs.

"I know Jack. He'll remember in a few hours. All he needs is to be placed on the right line," said Will as he walked backwards to Jack.

"Hello," said Jack. "So you're Jack or am I?"

"_You_ are Jack. I am Will," said Will. He pointed to himself. "Will." Then to Jack. "Jack. Will. Jack. Will. Jack. Understand?"

Jack pointed to Josh. "Him?"

"Joshamee Gibbs. You may call him Josh or Gibbs," said Will.

"Why?" wondered Jack.

"Because we just do," replied Will. "My whole name is William Turner. Everyone calls me Will."

"Why?" wondered Jack.

"Well, my mother called me Will since I was born and it stuck to me. Will and Gibbs or Josh are what you call nicknames. A nickname is a name people call you. It generally is simpler to call someone by their nickname," said Will.

"My name?" wondered Jack.

"You're just Jack. Sometimes you are called Jack Sparrow. It depends on the person," Will told him.

"Person?" wondered Jack.

"No mind is the same, especially yours," said Will.

"Why?" asked Jack.

"You're unique and no one can ever be like you," replied Will.

"Why?" asked Jack.

"You don't have a plan. You make everything up as you go along. Beckett even admired you for your mind," said Will.

"Beckett?" Jack asked himself as he lowered his eyes.

"Do you remember him?" wondered Will. "Near my height. White, pristine wig. Navy Blue coat. A ship called _Endeavor_. Letters of Marque. Your compass and-"

"What's a compass?" asked Jack.

Gibbs smacked his hand to his forehead.

Jack looked at him. "Why did you do that? Did it hurt?"

"No, Jack, it doesn't hurt as much as you not remembering anything about yourself or Will," said Gibbs. He looked at Will as he approached. "Let me try."

"You know something about me?" wondered Jack, curious.

Gibbs nodded. He inhaled deeply. "Your name is Jonathan Thomas Teague. Your mother's name was Aisling. Your ship is called _Black Pearl_ after being sunk by Cutler Beckett who also branded you a pirate. Before the _Pearl_, your ship was called _Wicked Wench_. It had white sails before black. Davy Jones- tentacle beard -raised your ship for you under the terms you owe him your soul after being captain for thirteen years. Hector Barbossa mutinied, meaning took over your ship, and left you on an island to die two years after you got her back. Because you always introduced yourself as "Captain" Jones didn't let it through. You had to find the key to the Dead Man's Chest through Will's help. In that venture, Will met his father. Oh, and you met Will and Elizabeth in Port Royal, Jamaica. You needed their help to kill Barbossa and took them to Isla del Muerta where Cortez left his eight hundred eighty two pieces of cursed Aztec gold. The gold turned them into skeletons. So, you found the chest and learned it was Jones's heart you needed to escape because Jones through Will's father Bootstrap Bill marked you with the black spot. The Kraken hunted you down, Elizabeth chained you to the mast, and you went down to Davy Jones's Locker where you lost your mind and we rescued you. You returned here to attend the Brethren Court meeting. Along the way we ran into some troubles. You volunteered your heart to the chest as long as Will here helped get Beckett, Jones, and the chest to you. After the meeting, which you named Elizabeth King, you went aboard the ship. There was a battle. Your father was the one who made himself captain after you, Elizabeth, and Will nearly died and you've been here since." Gibbs breathed heavily. He inhaled forgetting something. "Scarlet and Giselle are still slapping you from your little adventure that night. Your father abandoned you several times as a child and all you ever wanted was his love. Bill became your second father. You were a child of illness and fever. Disease was common in your world. You dreamed of sleeping with Elizabeth by the way. You also find that Will feels more like a brother than a companion. Even still today you want your father to be proud of you and will do anything to get it. Currently you are suffering from something called amnesia and you have a broken arm. The first thing you are going to do when you remember from all this- because I'm going to faint- is catch me."

Will set his hand on Gibbs's back, as the old sea dog did fall to the side breathing heavily.

Jack stared off into the distance, thoughtful.

Will and Gibbs exchanged glances as Jack's face suddenly brightened.

"So, so, Jack is just that thing you call people when they don't like their name?" he asked.

Gibbs stood and walked from the room without a word.

Will slumped as he set his head in his hands. He ran his fingers through his hair groaning, wondering what he was going to do now.

A loud sound echoed in the room.

Will raised his head to find Jack staring at his stomach in horror. "You're hungry Jack."

"What is that?" asked Jack.

"You need food," replied Will.

Jack looked at him oddly. "Food?"

"I'll show you in a moment. Does your stomach hurt?" said Will.

Jack nodded as he set his palm across his stomach. "I think so."

"You stay here," said Will. "Don't leave the room or get up or leave this place. I will be back momentarily."

"Momentarily?" said Jack, the tone of his voice confused.

"In not a long amount of time," said Will as he stood.

He walked from the room only to find Gibbs standing across the hall staring in the middle of nowhere.

"Jack's lost his memories of everything," said Gibbs.

"For now," Will told him. "I'll help him remember. He needs a head start. Jack Sparrow never has a plan, but I do. If we give him a few ideas to who he is, his brilliant mind will recall everything."

"And if it doesn't?" wondered Gibbs quietly.

Will shook his head. "He will remember. I haven't the slightest concern."

He moved to take a step forward then slammed his palm against the wall beside Gibbs. His breath increased and face twisted into pain.

Gibbs set his hand on Will's shoulder. "Will you shouldn't be out of bed. You don't know what your body looks like. It wasn't just your torso."

"Which is why I'm out of bed. If I did know what this looked like I doubt I would be walking around, but since I don't know what it looks like then I have no reason to not be walking," replied Will. He looked at him. "Where is the kitchen, Jack needs food?"

"Will, please. Rest," said Gibbs, his voice nearly as caring as Bill.

"You're not my father. Stop acting like you are," Will told him before moving from his hand and walking down the hall.

Gibbs watched Will walk. He knew he was more like his father than he thought. "Left Will. Food is left."

Pointing left after moving right, Will headed that direction. He gave Gibbs a smile of thanks.

Jack pulled at his hair in curiosity as Will walked in the room with a two plates balancing on two bowls. Cups balanced on the plates beside the food.

He looked at Will oddly.

Will handed Jack the plate of food. "This is a sandwich. It's made of bread and ham."

Jack touched the bread. "Do you eat this?"

"Aye, Jack, you eat it," replied Will. He took a bite. "Take a bite. It tastes good."

Watching him eat, Jack licked his lips. He looked at the sandwich oddly. Carefully, half expecting it to kill him for an odd reason, he poked his finger at the bread then wrapped his fingers around it wholly. He raised it to his mouth. Testing if it was safe, he touched the bread and ham with the very tip of his tongue.

"What are you doing?" Will asked.

Jack laughed at the puzzled expression on his face. "You look funny."

"Are you afraid to eat a sandwich?" asked Will.

"Maybe," admitted Jack, innocently.


	2. II

**-)(-**

"_Awkward timing to walk into a story," said Dirk, Marie and Joceline behind him._

_Liam giggled as he squirmed against his father. "Daddy was afraid to eat a sandwich."_

_"I didn't know wot it was," replied Jack. "I didn't know wot a lot of things were. You don't like things you don't know wot they are. Stop mocking me about it."_

_With an innocent smile Jack once gave me, Liam looked at Jack._

_Jack nodded to me. "Go on, this is making much more sense to me now."_

"_Not really," my incredible cousin Dirk decided to comment upon as he sat backwards in a chair beside his father across from me._

_I rolled my eyes and continued the story. Finally, after a bit of convincing it wasn't going to kill him and that he would like it, Jack did take a bite from the sandwich to discover he did in fact like it._

**-)(-**

Having eaten his sandwich as Jack merely began eating his, Will took the bowl of meat and vegetable soup in his lap. A small amount was scooped into the spoon. He set the spoon in his mouth, thought a moment, and then nodded his head.

"Not bad," he admitted. "Hot, but not bad at all."

"What is that?" asked Jack.

"Soup," replied Will. "It's good in fact."

Finished with the sandwich, Jack set the rest on his plate. He stuck his finger in the middle of the bowl. Yelping, he pulled back and sucked on it.

"I don't like soup," he announced.

"Blow on it Jack. Soup is hot," said Will.

He watched Jack blow on a spoonful of the soup then slowly eat it. Although he never would admit it to anyone, watching Jack caused him to smile every time. Jack looked and acted like a small child, curious about everything in the world. He trusted him like the world in fact.

"What?" asked Jack. "You're looking at me oddly."

"I'm sorry, I just feel like I'm beginning to know who you are," replied Will.

Jack's face lit with joy. He set the soup on a table beside him then stared at Will. "You know me?"

"Of course I do," said Will. "We've known each other for over two years."

"How did we meet?" asked Jack.

Will smiled. "We met in Port Royal, Jamaica. At the time, you were a pirate on the run from the Royal Navy. Pirates and marines have never been good together. You wandered into the smithy, the place where a blacksmith works…"

"What is a blacksmith?" wondered Jack.

"A blacksmith is someone who makes swords, cells with half barrel hinges, horseshoes, and anything with metal. I was a blacksmith," explained Will before continuing. "We fought a small battle between the two of us and you said I seemed familiar. It was my father you meant at the time. You were an odd person Jack, but wonderful."

"Am I now?" asked Jack quietly.

"You still are," said Will.

Jack nodded. He looked at the blanket then played with a loose end. His face lowered more. Something was clearly on his mind.

Will tilted his head to attempt to see Jack's. "Tell me what is in that mind of yours."

Jack raised his head with tears in his eyes. "Do you think I'll ever remember who I am or will I always feel like this?"

"Like what?" asked Will, scooting closer to him.

"I don't know how to tell you," said Jack with a shrug. "I don't know anything."

Will set his palms on Jack's shoulders. "I will help you remember who you are. I promise you Jack, you will know who you are."

"If I never remember?" asked Jack.

Will shook his head. "You will, I promise. Do you know what a promise is?" Jack slowly shook his head. "A promise is something someone makes to another person. A promise can never be broken. When a person says I promise, it means he is forever debted to remain true. He has to do good on his promise no matter what. So, no matter what happens, I have to help you remember who Jack Sparrow is and I will do just that."

"You will help me then?" asked Jack, quite unsure.

Nodding, Will stood. He searched around the room. On a table in the corner where a few pieces of eight, holes already through them and leather cord wound in a ball beside that. He strung a few glass beads, the piece of eight, a random shell, and tied a square knot on the side. He tied the ends on the leather then began back to Jack.

"Here, this is my promise to you. Until you remember who you are, this will remind me I made a promise and you have to tell everyone that I promised you I would help you. With the entire world knowing I made you a promise, I will have to stay true and you can always remind me this necklace is a promise I made to you Jack," said Will. He set the necklace around Jack's neck.

Jack looked at the necklace. He looked at the piece of eight and smiled.

"What?" asked Will, the expression on Jack's face seeming hopeful.

"It looks like the one you have," noted Jack.

Will looked at his neck. Not only did the necklace Elizabeth gave to him hang, but the two rings did as well. He slumped low.

"What is it? You don't seem like you just did," said Jack.

"Don't worry about me Jack. All I want you to do is think about you. I will worry about the rest," said Will.

Jack gave a nod of his head, his hair falling in front of his face. Moving his hair, he laughed. Looking at Will he realized how much he truly did like him.

Will and Jack shared a smile that was much closer than being friends. They shared a smile brothers would have.

Rather than sleeping, as he should have been doing, Will lay on his back during the middle of the night. His fingers slipped in and out of the rings around his neck as his eyes stared at the ceiling.

Below, reflecting moonlight from the water cast lighted shadows on the ceiling. The light danced with the rhythm of the night.

His right hand was below his head. Sleep was an impossible task to accomplish at the moment. Thoughts plagued his mind. Edward was captain of the _Flying Dutchman_, his own father was helping and supposedly would receive freedom afterward, his wife was unlikely to wake from her injuries, the great battle for piracy ended and even now he felt piracy was a lost cause, he was injured and sore from something he couldn't recall happening to him, Jack Sparrow didn't know a single trait about himself, and he somehow had to tell the rest of the world that Jack Sparrow currently had amnesia in the morning.

Will sighed. How was he going to tell everyone about Jack? The world knew Jack Sparrow as a great pirate who made up everything as he went along. No one could ever match his cunning. He possessed such a unique mind that anything else wasn't the same. There was only room for one Jack Sparrow and the world was lost. Never again, even if Jack did remember anything, was the world going to be the same. He knew, if Jack did remember, nothing was going to be the same.

In all truth Will had to admit to himself that he didn't know anything about Jack and he knew he was the only one who could help Jack Sparrow. He didn't trust another soul, nor did he have a choice. By making Jack a promise, he sold his soul to helping Jack Sparrow remember. He wasn't sure Jack trusted anyone but him.

As the night was beginning to melt away by a faint glow beyond the cliffs of the Cove, Will's tired, heavy eyes finally fell shut, but his mind continued to ponder and question everything he was about to embark on.

Although it was needed, Will did not sleep long. He woke to much more pain than the previous day and Joshamee Gibbs taking bloody rags and cloth into a bowl.

"What did you to me?" asked Will, his breaths heavy.

"Cleaned your wound, stitched thicker thread into your skin, and placed clean bandages around your body," replied Gibbs.

"Should it hurt like this?" wondered Will.

"Feel as though it is burning?" asked Gibbs. Will nodded. "Compliments of Edward Teague. He contains quite the apothecary in the Caribbean. I have medicines for you, Jack, and Elizabeth."

"How is she?" wondered Will as he pushed himself into a sitting position.

"Same as before," replied Gibbs.

Will's eyes closed as he slumped. "I'm not going to give up on her Josh, nor on Jack."

"He was asking about you all morning Will. I think he needs you by his side," hinted Gibbs.

Slowly, Will pushed the blanket from his body. He stood, moving one limb and bone at a time. "Do anyone but you and I know of his condition?"

Guilt in his eyes, Gibbs shook his head. "I don't want to tell them Will. Jack's like a son to me. I don't know how to tell them."

"The best way of doing anything is to just do it," replied Will as he pulled a clean tunic over his head and breathed sharply as he did so.

"Please don't over do it Will. Your body needs to rest," requested Gibbs.

"I can rest later," Will told him as he took his coat from off the table. He turned to Gibbs. "How does it look?"

"Will, a slight infection began. I have something I need to combine with your blood day and night for a few days. You will allow me to do it without fighting. I don't approve to see you out of bed, but I won't be something I'm not," said Gibbs.

"Which is?" wondered Will, his eyes narrow in confusion.

"Your father William," replied Gibbs. He shrugged then added more. "But he did tell me to look after you as if you were my son."

"To begin, you can rally the _Black Pearl_ and anyone else who should know of Jack," said Will as he and Gibbs began walking down the hall. "Who is with Jack now?"

While saying this, Will found himself being led to Jack.

Jack was asleep on his side, curled in blankets.

"I had to do it Will," said Gibbs, apologies in his voice. "His head was throbbing and burning. He isn't naturally asleep."

"I would rather have him like this while I think of what to do. I don't want him being alone while he is awake. There is no telling what a mindless Jack Sparrow will do," admitted Will.

Not long after, Will sat at the far end of the table in the Court Room with six others accompanied by two each sat around the table.

"Josh, I meant only the crew when I told you all those should know," said Will.

"William, these are the Pirate Lords. They do deserve to know. To tell the crew should be done in a more private matter with Jack present," said Gibbs.

Will swallowed hard as he fidgeted in the chair. His mouth moved into several words several times. Each attempt was another fail at saying the words. He drew a breath then looked at each one of them.

"Do all know what amnesia is?" he began.

Heads nodded around the room.

"Jack," began Will, his voice failing him again. "Jack Sparrow has amnesia. He has no memory of his life. When I saw him, I had to introduce Joshamee and myself as well as tell him his own name. Jack's mind is lost from him."

"When has he had a mind?" asked Barbossa.

"Before now," replied Will, his eyes staring at the table. He looked at them. "You don't believe me do you?"

"Jack Sparrow cannot be harmed," said Mistress Ching.

"He always manages to find away from harm," noted Jocard.

"Not this time," said Will.

A heavy sigh carried across them as Hector Barbossa suddenly sat in the chair. His mind recalled past events. "Your father brought you bloodied here. I took Elizabeth. Edward carried Jack back. The entire side of his face was bloodied and his skin white, but only his face white. I saw his head." He looked at Will, his eyes wide and confused and an emotion Will believed to be concern and fear. "Jack Sparrow's memories were struck from him as his head was struck."

Will nodded. "His skull is slightly bruised, eye bloodshot, and forehead severely bruised. He asked me if it was all right to eat a sandwich."

"I don't believe you," said Ammand. "I have known Jack Sparrow and Edward Teague many years."

"What will it take for you to believe me?" shouted Will. "Jack Sparrow does not know who he is. He has amnesia. My wife will never wake again. I have an infection growing on my body. None of you did anything. Three people faced Davy Jones and all three of us nearly died. What more do you need? Do you need proof that Jack Sparrow's mind is lost? I'm sorry to say Jack is unconscious at the moment, otherwise I would have brought him here. He is unconscious not only because his head causes him terrible pain, but because Joshamee and I don't know what to do with him. I made Jack a promise after explaining to him what a promise was. I told him I would die if it meant returning his memories to his soul. It is no wonder none of you believe me. You did nothing to prevent this from happening." He stood. "If you'll excuse me, I'll be with Jack. He doesn't deserve to be alone. He's already alone from the world. I'm not going to cause him more pain."

The short conversation completed, those in the room watched Will walk out.

Each of them looked at each other, questioning whether to believe the difficult news Will brought upon them or question the difficulty that something terrible happened to a man the world seemed to believe as immortal.

Although he didn't know why, Will's feet took him to his wife's side. All he did was sit at her side, gazing at her beautiful face. Once every few minutes he brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers.

It was she. She was the only soul in the entire world that calmed his troubled mind and brought comfort to him. If it were not him who went to her she would come to him. Of all people, she knew him the best. Simply being beside her gave him untold comfort. He felt the most comfort at her side now than he ever had since waking.

"I wish upon every shooting star that you wake soon," Will told her. "I don't know what to do. I know, if you were awake, you would know what to do for Jack. You would know what would bring about his memory and you would help ease my pain. You don't know how much pain I'm in and it's only pain from my chest. Add your condition and Jack, and I don't know why I'm still alive. I can't do this on my own. Josh won't know what to do because Jack was like a son to him. I don't believe Barbossa has a single care for Jack. He can take the _Pearl_ and not worry about fighting for it again. None of the Lords believed me. And Jack is lost from everything. I don't know what to do."

He soon found himself laying beside her, his hand wrapping around hers. Hours as his mind slipped in and out of sleep, he lay beside his wife simply thinking of what he could do in the world to help Jack, ease his pain, and bring her to life. Now more than ever he wanted his father. There were times before when his wanted his father, but now was the greatest of them all.

Finally, near the end of the day Will's mind became completely conscious again. Seeing her as the way she had been for days, he sighed heavily. Since he was the one in there tonight, he poured a few mouthfuls of water into her body drip by drip.

He pressed his lips against hers before walking out with a solemn mood upon him. Walking down the hall, he heard sweet laughter like never before. Following the laughter, he walked into Jack's room where a dog sat on Jack's bed licking his face.

"Louie," noted Will.

Seeing Will, Jack's face brightened more. "Will, I have a dog."

"I see that," said Will as he sat beside Jack. "His name is Louie."

"Louie," Jack said to the dog whose ears he was now scratching. "I like your name."

"Have you had anything to eat?" wondered Will as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Joshamee brought me dinner and introduced me to my dog," said Jack. He looked at Will deeper, his mood shifting. "Are you alright?"

Will nodded. "I'm worried."

"Me?" asked Jack.

"You, me, Elizabeth, and what I'm going to do," replied Will.

"Who is Elizabeth?" asked Jack.

Forgetting for a single moment, Will shut his eyes. "She is my wife. We have known each other for years. When two people want to spend the rest of their lives with another they will marry so no one else can take the other away."

"A wife. Did I have a wife?" wondered Jack.

"No," replied Will. "I don't think you loved anyone like that anyway."

"Is that bad?" wondered Jack.

"Of course not," replied Will. "You have a free soul Jack. Some people are like that."

Jack nodded. He rubbed his head as Louie rested his own head in Jack's lap.

"How is your head?" asked Will.

"It doesn't hurt bad anymore. Joshamee said I was getting better," said Jack.

Will nodded.

Four taps on the door caused them both to flinch and jump.

"What is that?" asked Jack quickly.

"It is what you do when you want permission to enter a room while someone is in the room," said Will as he went to the door.

Hector Barbossa stood in the hall. His eyes moved past Will to Jack. "Is it a smart thing seeing him?"

"Perhaps you can bring something back," Will said quietly as he stepped aside.

Barbossa's eyes never left Jack as he entered the room.

Jack looked at him oddly and curiously. His eyes wandered around the room as if in thought.

Prepared for this, Barbossa merely brought a chair beside Jack's side.

The two looked at each other for a time.

"Will, who is this?" wondered Jack, his voice shy and quiet.

Will's eyes caught part of Barbossa's as the pirate shut his eyes while his entire body slumped. "This is Hector Barbossa."

"Does he like Hector or Barbossa?" asked Jack.

"Either is fine. Ye may call me Hector or Barbossa," replied Barbossa.

Jack pointed at him. "I will call you Hector because that should be your name."

"If ye want," said Barbossa.

'Jack' scurried from Barbossa's shoulder to sit in front of Jack and poked at Louie.

"What is that?" Jack asked, pointing at the monkey.

"This is my monkey. His name is Jack," replied Barbossa.

Jack smiled. "Like me." He patted the other side of Louie. "Come here 'Jack'. I want to look at you."

'Jack' made a few tones before scurrying onto Jack's shoulder where he began picking through his hair.

Jack laughed while he lowered his head.

The monkey jumped from his shoulder to wander around the room before settling on the windowsill. His tail was curled as he wiped his face.

"I like him," Jack told them. "I want a monkey."

Barbossa and Will shared a look.

"You have a dog Jack," replied Will. "A dog is good enough for you."

Jack nodded. He turned to Barbossa. "Do you know me?" Barbossa nodded. "Are we friends?"

"I wouldn't say we are friends but we have known each other for an amount of time and I do know ye well," replied Barbossa.

"Everyone knows who I am," muttered Jack with a heavy sigh.

"That is how it is supposed to be. You have amnesia Jack," said Will.

"It's not fair. Why can't I know me?" wondered Jack. He looked at Will. "Why me?"

"I don't know why it was you Jack but I do know this is how amnesia is," said Will.

"What do you know about me?" Jack asked Barbossa.

"I know ye have the _Black Pearl_, the ship ye always somehow manage to get back after I take it," began Barbossa. He was cut off by Jack suddenly poking Will.

"What is a _Black Pearl_ and ship?" Jack softly asked.

Will's mind thought as his eyes danced around the room. He pointed above him. "I know this is a poor example, but this is a ship. The _Black Pearl_ is your ship. Ships are used for transportation, meaning taking a person from one place to another. Ships sail on the water. You see, we can't walk on water because that is how it is. We use ships to cross oceans and seas and large amounts of water. Do you understand?"

"The _Black Pearl_ is a ship, which is used on water when we can't walk on land to get to another place," said Jack, his voice in a question as he spoke.

"Aye," replied Will.

"What else do you know about me?" asked Jack to Barbossa.

"Ye are the best pirate the world has seen and yer not immortal as the world thought," said Barbossa.

"Pirate?" wondered Jack.

"I'll explain another day when there is more daylight. That requires a long explanation and lesson," Will told him.

Jack's mouth widened into a yawn. He rubbed his eyes then allowed himself to sink into the pillows and blankets. Neither Will nor Barbossa bothering him being in the room, he pressed his face into the pillow more before sleeping gently.

"That was Jack Sparrow," Will said to Barbossa.

"What are we going to do?" asked Barbossa.

Will shrugged. "I don't know anything about Jack and I promised to get his memory for him."

"Well," began Barbossa as he stood. "Ye won't be alone on that venture."

Impressed, Will watched him leave the room. Apparently, he thought wrong of Barbossa as well.

Not long after Barbossa left, Will left Jack's side as well. He returned to his room and eased himself onto the bed. Burning pain returned to his chest. He rested his back against the wall with a heavy, slow sigh.

Coming from Jack, Gibbs noticed Will's facial expression. Whether Will liked it or not, he entered.

Seeing him, Will rolled his eyes. He opened his mouth.

"Don't tell me to leave because I will not and certainly do not tell me you are fine Will. I know you are not fine. The stitches in your chest must be replaced," said Gibbs.

"You won't let me refuse will you?" asked Will.

Gibbs shook is head as he began easing Will from his tunic.

Piece by piece, the bandages were removed and exposed Will's injury to the air around him.

Each removal of a layer the uncomfortable sharpness in Will's chest worsened until becoming accustomed to air. Although he wasn't truly surprised, Gibbs never left the room, for he had all he needed in there.

"You were going to do this tonight no matter my argument. Correct?" assumed Will.

Gibbs nodded. With a tweezers, thread was slowly being pulled from Will's body.

"Josh, what do you suggest I do with Jack?" asked Will. "I don't want to leave him in Shipwreck Cove. There must be somewhere I can take him."

"I don't know Will. The world doesn't welcome Jack Sparrow lad," noted Gibbs.

"If you've forgotten as well, Jack has no memory. He is no longer the Jack Sparrow the world un-welcomes," reminded Will.

"I can tell you one thing that I know. You, Elizabeth, and Jack need professional medical attention. I don't know as much as the world assumes. I've forgotten most of it since my days in the Royal Navy," said Gibbs. He set aside the bloodied thread and merely looked at Will's chest. "We need to get you professional attention as quick as possible. Stitches are not holding well against your ribs."

"Were my ribs cut?" wondered Will.

"Scratched with the blade yes," replied Gibbs.

"Thought so," muttered Will as a hot rag was patted over his wound.

"I cannot believe this is coming from my mouth," began Gibbs. "Will, I think we should sail to London. I know London has advanced in medical knowledge since I was trained. There are surgeons who can help the three of you."

"I ran away from London for a reason Josh. I swore I wasn't going back there," said Will.

"You may just have to. I assume you have family in London?" said Gibbs.

Will's head slightly nodded. "Aye."

"Then we are going there not long from now," said Gibbs.

"Josh, I don't think going to my family is best. You don't exactly understand what they are like," said Will.

"Will, I've seen a lot in my time. I've seen the best and the worst of the Royal Navy and pirates. There is nothing that I cannot understand," said Gibbs.

"Have you heard of a family in London? Seastone?" began Will.

Gibbs nodded. "A powerful, influential merchant family that is."

Will bit his lip as his mind told him not to do it, as he told himself that for thirteen years. "Richard Seastone is my grandfather. Alexander Seastone, his son, is my uncle. Charlotte Seastone, his daughter and twin sister to Alexander, was my mother. Father married her. I was born Lord William Alexander Jonathan Seastone-Turner." He looked at Gibbs who stared blankly at him. "And you don't believe me."

Joshamee Gibbs looked at Will, the blankness across his face fading away with Will's sigh and small shake of head. "You are honest about that aren't you?"

"I ran when I was nine after mum died because I knew Richard would mold me into the perfect lord. I didn't want it. I've kept it secret from Elizabeth even. You are the first soul who knows since I was in London at age nine," said Will. "Please keep it this way. I don't want the rest of the world knowing until we reach London."

"You're a Lord of England," noted Gibbs softly to himself.

"Josh, can you please finish. I'm tired, sore, and I need to sleep," said Will.

Deciding nothing more could be done, Gibbs stitched Will once more. The stitches were holding, but not to the extent he wished. Skin would need to heal on its own and the wound was more susceptible to infection and disease. Attempting to counter it, he bandaged Will's torso once more.

Although he said he was tired, Will lay in bed staring at the night sky fumbling with his parents' rings. Thinking of both of them, he realized how much he wanted his mother back in his life and craved his father's freedom. Joshamee Gibbs knew his secret, but, for the first time in his life, he felt better than he normally had. That night was one of his best sleeps he ever slept. To finally have told another soul relieved the burden of his secret upon his conscience

* * *

Considered to be part of the Brethren Court by association to Elizabeth, Will, unfortunately, was required to attend the meeting that was held the following morning.

Regrettably, Barbossa was the one to wake before daybreak and received his very own broken nose because of his assignment.

Following everyone else, Will trudged in the room as he allowed his mind to wake slowly. At the head of the table in the back was an empty chair and a large book sitting on the table beside the book. As every other chair was taken, he trudged himself to the chair and plopped down. He rested his head on his palm and yawned long.

"And who is this?" asked Ammand.

"Whoever he is he has no right to be here much less appears to want to be here," said Mistress Ching.

"Honestly, I don't know where here is," Will told them.

Jocard bolted to his feet and pointed at Will. "Then leave. You have no business to be here fool."

"You dare call your Pirate Queen, temporary Lord of Singapore and the Caribbean, temporary King and temporary Keeper of the Code fool?" warned Barbossa. His voice was casual, not expressing the slightest concern.

Even Will's eyes narrowed in wonder and confusion. He looked at each of the people in the room. "Am I to assume this is the Brethren Court?" he asked.

Barbossa nodded. "Yes Turner and you are on it so best pay attention." Will sighed as he let his hand fall to the table. "As you all know, you must report on the most recent battle, which shouldn't be difficult for any of you considering we were the only brave souls willing to face the Devil."

"Zere waz no need for uz. You were doing quite well," said Chevalle.

"A bit of assistance would have been helpful," said Will.

"Was the _Black Pearl_ not the flagship?" asked Mistress Ching.

"Aye," replied Will.

"Then why were you on the ship if you did not want to face the Devil?" asked Mistress Ching.

Will's eyes narrowed in a glare. "And who are you to call me a coward when I faced Jones."

"William!" called Barbossa, sounding like a father scolding his son. "I know yer upset over the result of the battle, but now is not the time to tell the world. We must discuss what our future holds. We are the leaders of piracy or what's left of it. What should we do? That is to be our discussion."

"This?" Will's voice came in the back, unamused.

"Do you have a solution then William?" asked Barbossa.

"Is it that difficult?" wondered Will. The confused sets of eyes staring upon him made him realize he had to answer his own question. "What becomes of piracy is there is no more piracy. That world is dying if not dead because of this battle that none of you took part of, save Hector over there. The Navy has surrendered for one reason: piracy is a lost cause. Aye we won the battle between Cutler Beckett, but what did we win? We can't go back into the world as pirates. Piracy died with our victory. Upon a new captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ a new era was brought upon us. Pirates must now blend with the world and adapt to the normal life. We can't hide on the seas in our ships any longer. The world has changed. It is time we changed with it."

"Change how?" wondered Jocard, his voice intrigued by Will's words.

Will shrugged. "Become one with the Royal Navy to begin." The entire Court, including Barbossa, looked at him as though he was not serious. "What I mean to say is acquire Letters of Marque or a license to pirate against another country."

"I approve very much. Damn the British," said Chevalle, his voice in high honor.

"What are our other options?" asked Ammand, not as enthusiastic as Chevalle.

"Become a merchant for your place of port. There will never come a time that you will be boarded by pirates and because of that everyone will trust you with their goods," said Will. Ideas flowed from his head and he shared them aloud. "Those of you that are most familiar with ships there is a high possibility that carpentry will do you good. I hear it pays well and the word from sea comes to carpenters first. Pursue your long awaited dreams. You are Pirate Lords, surely that shouldn't be difficult. You can simply give the life at sea a rest and settle on a nice piece of land silently guarding over your seas or simply hand your piece to another."

"The Royal Navy will not simply leave us alone. We are wanted men, and woman, now more than ever," said Villanueva.

"I have heard to hide from the enemy one must become the enemy. The Navy will never suspect any of you as pirates once you have joined. You'll be safer than you ever have been," said Will.

"Not many of us are what the Navy allows," said Mistress Ching.

"Have you ever thought of having a child or two of your own?" asked Will. "You don't appear to be of age where burdening children is not possible."

Mistress Ching smiled. "I like you."

At the other head of the table, Barbossa rolled his eyes.

"And what about our Lords of Singapore and Caribbean?" asked Ammand.

"Don't worry about them. They are coming with me," said Will.

"And where are you going?" asked Jocard.

With the word on his tongue, Will was still not able to say it. The very thought brought horrors of his past to his mind. "London."

"Ye can't bring Jack there. Every man knows who he is," said Barbossa.

"Every man but Jack," reminded Will. "You've seen him Hector. He is not Jack Sparrow. No one will know it's him. Trust me."

"I do trust ye and that is my problem," said Barbossa. "I trust ye too much."

"What iz your name?" asked Chevalle.

Will opened his mouth to respond and had every intention to say his name, however, a figure slowly walking from the shadows stole his attention.

Jack wandered in the room, the expression on his face appeared as though he did wrong. He looked at the eyes that gazed upon him.

"Jack, what are you doing here?" asked Will.

"I didn't want to be in bed any more and I'm hungry. I heard you and I don't know where I cannot be hungry," said Jack.

"When I'm through with this we can eat," said Will. He stood. "In the meantime, you can wait here with me. I'll find another chair."

"Alright," said Jack. He walked past the Lords on the right of the table to sit beside Will who found another chair.

"My name," Will suddenly remembered. "Will Turner."

"They don't know you?" wondered Jack quietly.

"Now they do," Will whispered back.

"And who are they?" Jack asked, pointing at the others around the table.

With the same thought in mind Will looked at them. "Who are all of you? Where are your seas of Lordship?"

"Well ye know me, but I am Lord of the Caspian Sea," replied Barbossa.

"I thought that was a lake," noted Will.

Barbossa rolled his eyes. "And that is the reason I never tell anyone where my piece came from."

"A lake?" wondered Jack.

"Water surrounded by land," replied Will.

"Oh," Jack whispered, nodding his head.

Ammand, who was sitting beside Jack, turned his head to look at him oddly.

"Sri Sumbhajee, India."

Jack's head tilted to the side as his eyes widened in wonder. "Is that how he talks?"

"Apparently," said Will, sharing Jack's confusion.

"Gentleman Jocard, Africa."

"Chevalle, the Penniless Frenchman, France."

"Villanueva, Spain."

"Ammand the Corsair, Barbary Coast."

"Mistress Ching, China."

Will nodded.

Jack leaned close to Will. "What is China?"

"A country. I'll tell you another day," whispered Will. His attention was once again on the Court. "Anything else we need to discuss?"

"Provisions in Shipwreck Cove are running short due to recent events," said Barbossa.

"Then each of us shall provide money or bring provisions," said Will.

"We have no pieces of eight," Jocard pointed out.

"Am I to assume you have no pieces of eight on you?" wondered Will.

Each Lord looked at one another in a curious matter. Apparently, not one contained a single piece upon him, or her in Mistress Ching's stance.

Will sighed. "Empty your pockets. I cannot believe this has to be done again."

Again, each Lord looked about in curiosity.

"A piece of lint would suffice," said Will, his voice becoming desperate.

"Not even that," admitted Barbossa.

Shaking his head, Will shut his eyes. He squeezed the bridge of his own.

"Will, this was in my pocket," said Jack. "Is it what you need?"

Will's eyes turned to Jack's hand where bright beads tumbled about. He shut Jack's hand. "No, these are yours. Put them back in your coat pocket."

Jack nodded as he set his hand in his pocket again. "Why do I have them?"

"Because they are yours," replied Will.

"What did I do with them?" asked Jack.

"You had beads strung up in your hair. They had to be removed to properly bandage your head," said Will.

"That's," began Jack, his mind searching for the word and the word expressed on his face. "Odd."

"It was you," replied Will. "And to solve the Piece of Eight issue, I believe Captain Barbossa should provide nine pieces of eight for wasting away the former pieces."

"Fair enough trade," agreed Barbossa.

"Anything else?" asked Will.

"That be all Turner," replied Barbossa.

"I expect your reports to be handed to me before you leave for your native seas," added Will. "Meeting adjourned."

"One thing," Jocard said before any stood. He looked at Will. "Who is Captain now?"

"Edward Teague," replied Will.

The room and emotions quieted.

"Does he know?" asked Ammand quietly.

"I intend to have him never know. He will remember before I let him meet with his father again," said Will.

"If he doesn't?" wondered Ammand.

Will shook his head. "He won't know." He stood and turned. "Jack."

Jack jumped to his feet and chased after Will. He glanced behind him a few times in curiosity at the Court. "Where are we going?"

"Are you still hungry?" wondered Will.

Jack nodded. "I think that is the reason why my stomach is making noises."

"Yep, you're still hungry. I'm sure Ragetti cooked something up this morning," said Will.

"Ragetti? Someone I knew?" assumed Jack.

"He's a good man and a good cook," Will told him.

Inside the Courtroom, the Lords still sat silently and in their own thoughts. It seems the very idea of Jack Sparrow with amnesia is no more than an amusing tale to tell. Jack Sparrow having lost his mind and regained it within a few minutes the story would be told. Reality was before their eyes. The amusing story was anything but amusing. Jack wasn't Jack and the world would never be the same without him.

**-)(-**

_Niamh continued poking my arm as she had done for the past few minutes apparently trying to gain my attention. I finally looked at her, having enough of her games._

_"Yes Arcelia?"_

_The little girl looked at her father. "Daddy, what was it like not remembering anything?"_

_"Confusing. Lost to the world. Confusing. Frightening at times. Lonely. Confusing. Cold. Confusing," replied Jack._

_"It was confusing then," said Niamh to herself as she nodded._

_"I believe it was more frightening than confusing. I didn't know anything and I was afraid of everything because I didn't know anything and everything was worth being afraid of. Sometimes everything is reason to be afraid of anything and anything can be a reason to be afraid of everything," added Jack._

_"One thing is certain," said Edward as he looked at Jack. "You still talk confusing."_

"_No, it's normal," I replied. "That can never be confusing."_

_"I'm his own father and still trying to decipher his words," said Edward._

_"Jack has always been Jack and Jack not talking like Jack isn't Jack," I told him._

_He gave me an odd look himself. Beside me, I heard my father softly laugh._

_Jack looked at me, the most curious of them all not to mention the only one that seemed to pay me any attention as well. "Keep going."_

_Seeing as you were hungry, I took you to the kitchen where Ragetti was cooking breakfast for certain people. He, as well as the rest of the cooks, shared recipes for dishes across the world and received small instructions and tips to better cooking._

**-)(-**

Walking into the kitchen, Will breathed deeply. He heard Jack do the same behind him.

"It smells good," noted Jack.

In the distance, pans and pots fell on the floor, creating a commotion that approached.

Out of breath not because he was running but because Jack was there, Ragetti suddenly stopped in front of Jack. He looked at him in wonder and sadness. Words formed from his lips however no sound escaped.

"Are you Ragetti?" asked Jack, pointing at him.

Ragetti nodded. "Uh huh. And you're Jack."

"I know," replied Jack. "I know my name."

"Wot else do you know?" asked Ragetti.

Answering the question, Jack's eyes lowered causing his head to lower slightly. "Not enough."

Exhaling deeply, Ragetti sighed. Heartbreak and disappointment formed in his eyes and expressed on his face. He turned and bent to collect his fallen pans.

Will lowered himself to the wooden floor to help him. "He's hungry Ragetti. Do you have anything?"

"He doesn't remember anything?" asked Ragetti.

"No," Will softly replied.

"I'll help him," promised Ragetti as he stood. He nodded and went to stand in front of Jack. He grabbed Jack's right hand. "Captain Jack Sparrow, I Ragetti, give you my promise that I will help you remember who you are."

"Will already promised me that," said Jack, motioning to Will.

"I know things he doesn't," said Ragetti. "I was there the day you made the agreement with Davy Jones. Will wasn't."

"Davy Jones? Who is he?" wondered Jack.

Life in the kitchen ended for a few moments as all eyes turned to Jack Sparrow.

Noticing and feeling their eyes, Jack's head lowered as he took his hand back. He bit at his nails while occasionally looking at the eyes gazing at him in wonder and complete confusion.

"I came here because I was hungry," reminded Jack.

"I'll have something in a moment," said Ragetti as he began running backwards.

Will set the pans and pots on the table while Ragetti was gone from his counter.

Quickly, Jack walked to Will's side and whispered in his ear. "Should I know Davy Jones?"

"I'll tell you sometime who he was," said Will.

Jack nodded. "You need to tell me a lot a lot of sometimes."

A smile came onto Will's face with Jack's confusing words. "I know and I will."

"I know you will. Somehow I know you'll tell me," said Jack confidently with a nod.

"Captain Jack, I'm making your favorite breakfast," called Ragetti in the back. He poked his head from the busy cooking in the room. "Cinnamon sugar toast, porridge, and pineapple coconut milk and fresh lime in your water."

"Sounds delicious," noted Will.

Ragetti nodded quickly. "It is."

Will took Jack's wrist to lead him from the kitchen and into the dinning area. Although he expected it sooner, Marty, Cotton, Pintel, Mullroy and Murtogg slowly approached the two of them.

Jack looked at their faces with a blank expression across his face. He looked down to resume weaving his fingers through the spaces between fingers. He couldn't see them so they couldn't see him.

"Jack," Pintel said, his voice unsure.

"I don't want to talk to anyone else who knows me," said Jack before standing, walking past everyone, and settling himself in a darker corner of the room.

"It's true then?" wondered Marty.

"Let him be. He'll want to talk with all of you when he's ready," said Will.

"I knew a man with amnesia once. He never remembered a thing," Murtogg said casually.

"And I don't wish to talk to anyone who believes Jack won't remember," announced Will as he stood to follow Jack's example and join him in the corner.

"This is not good," noted Marty.

Will stood over Jack quietly. He clutched Jack's shoulder.

Jack's head turned slightly. His hand was placed over Will's. "What is this feeling called?"

"Try describing it to me," said Will.

"I want to kill everyone who knows me and my stomach hurts and my eyes burn," replied Jack.

Coming in front of Jack, Will knelt. His free hand was set on Jack's other shoulder. "It's called jealousy and anger."

"I hate it," said Jack.

"Me too," admitted Will. "I felt like that every moment of my life for nearly a year and I couldn't run from it because I was on a ship. I couldn't hide because the person causing me to feel that way was the person I love the most."

"Elizabeth?" asked Jack, his voice unsure but recalling words spoken to him earlier.

Nodding, Will sighed as he sat in front of Jack. He took his hands back to rest them in his lap.

"Are you going to tell me that sometime too?" asked Jack. Will nodded. Jack's lower lip curled and eyes burned with anger. "When are you going to tell me everything you promised me? I'm not going to remember unless you tell me."

Knowing this to be true, Will slumped more. He wasn't going to tell Jack he knew nothing about his friend. That was the reason nothing was explained to Jack. He didn't know how to explain anything to him in a manor Jack would understand now. Had it been the Jack he met two years and months ago a simple sentence would have sufficed to explain piracy to Jack. A simple glare could explain his feelings of jealousy and anger.

"Will," Jack's voice called.

Blinking his eyes, Will looked at Jack whose face was frightened and pale.

"Are you alright? I didn't mean to say it like that," said Jack, his words quick and tremulous.

"It's all right Jack. I deserve to be spoken to like that," said Will.

"Was that anger?" wondered Jack.

"Aye," said Will.

"I don't like it," whispered Jack.

"No one does," said Will.

A smile widened across his face as his hand reached to a brown cord strung partly before Jack's white tunic. He pulled on the cord until shiny objects came from beneath the tunic.

"It's your promise," reminded Jack.

"I know," said Will.

"Uh…Will, I have your food," an uncertain Ragetti announced softly.

Jack's head whipped to the side as he inhaled deeply. The scent coming into his body caused his eyes to shut and a smile to widen across his face.

"Delicious," he said.

"What was that Jack?" asked Will.

"You were right. It does sound delicious," said Jack as he reached to take the plate of toast for himself.

Immediately, he shoved bread wholly into his mouth. The large bit and mouth not big enough for the entire piece, he gagged and choked until finally managing to swallow.

"You all right?" asked Will, a concerned smile and wide eyes on his face.

Choking and swallowing at the same time, Jack nodded. He waved his hands in front of his face as if to tell them he was going to live but continuing to cough.

"Will, I think he needs this," said Ragetti.

"Jack, drink this," said Will, tacking the cup from Ragetti's hand

Tears forming in his eyes because of his coughing and choking, Jack's hand reached for the cup. He drank a few swallows while ignoring his coughs. Some swallows later, he breathed deeply. Of all things, a smile widened on his face, a gold tooth grinned smile that reminded Will and Ragetti who this man in front of them was.

"That is good bread," Jack told them.

"After nearly being killed by your breakfast you say it's good," laughed Will.

The world coming to a halt in Jack's mind, he listened to Will's sweet, chiming laughter. The smile on his friend's face was pure and angelic appearing. The high eyebrows caused his eyes to open. It all seemed so familiar in his mind.

"I remember!" Jack cried as he bolted to his feet.

Life in the room halted as all eyes turned to Jack.

Will's laughter immediately stopped as he stood. "Remember what?"

"Someone named William with a smile like yours and laughing just like that," replied Jack talking quickly.

"That's my father," said Will, his voice barely loud enough. "What else do you remember?"

Jack shook his head. His voice was less than excited and eyes disappointed. "Nothing. I just remember someone with hair like yours and blue eyes and laughter and a smile like you have."

While everyone else sighed, as hopes of Jack's full recovery were killed, Will's heart and spirit was lifted. A small memory of simply remembering his father laughter gave him hope it was quite possible for Jack to remember.

"You remembered something Jack. Don't look like that," Will said.

"It doesn't mean anything. I just remember a person's face," Jack told him.

"But this means you have the potential to remember more," said Will. The smile on his face grew. "Name one thing you want to know and I'll spend the entire day doing my best to explain to you."

"Why do I remember him?" asked Jack.

"Because you and my father knew each other," replied Will.

"Why?" asked Jack.

"He was with you after he left me," said Will.

"Why?" asked Jack.

"I don't know why," said Will.

"Why?" asked Jack.

"Because my father never told me," said Will.

"Why?" asked Jack.

"I never saw him after he left until recently," said Will.

"Why?" asked Jack.

"Now that is something I can explain," said Will. "Come on."

"I'm still hungry," Jack told him.

Will looked at Ragetti.

Ragetti nodded as he handed Will the tray he brought the food out on.

"We can eat and talk," said Will.

"Is this going to take long?" wondered Jack.

Will's laughter was anything but amused. "Oh yes."

Not exactly enthused anymore, Jack shrugged. "I don't think I want to remember anything if all you are going to do is talk."

Will adjusted the tray to carry it with one hand. With his free hand, he grabbed Jack Sparrow's sleeve and tugged. "Come along Jack."

**-)(-**

_"Daddy," Emma quietly said. "Did you really tell him what Uncle Barbossa did to Grandfather?"_

_I nodded._

_"And he understood it?" asked Aidan._

_I nodded, understanding my son's wonder. "It literally took until dinner for me to explain why Barbossa did what he did to my father because I then had to explain what a pirate was. I'll admit, that was the oddest talk with anyone I had ever had considering I learned what it is to be a pirate from the man that asked me what a pirate is."_

_"Talk normal daddy," Aidan said._

_"Jack taught me what piracy was. Years later I had to explain it to him," I said in English as Elizabeth and Aidan liked to say. _

_"I still remember that conversation," said Jack. "You refused to tell me who exactly Davy Jones was. Your complaint was that I was already confused enough as to why a man would strap another man to a cannon by his bootstraps."_

_Father's soft laughter came from behind me. "I still wonder what brought thought into Hector's head."_

_"_Bootstrap_ Bill Turner?" I suggested._

_Agreeing that may have been why, although I knew it was why, Father gave a nod of his head until wholly nodding._

_"William, please continue," Richard said._

_Along with myself, we looked at him oddly._

_"This is intriguing," my grandfather used as his defense though I knew it reminded him of someone in the room._

_"Yes," said Alexander. "I do like hearing this story again however it wasn't my brother in law that lost his memory."_

_I turned to father just as he gave Alexander an annoyed, typical, let it be glare. That seemed to be the only expression on his face when he looked at my uncle these days._

_Deciding it best to continue on with the story before Alexander received a black eye, I pulled my squirming four year old in my lap._

_I explained to Jack why father was never there and what piracy was. Jack never once asked a question as I explained one of his questions. In my mind I thought believed it was because he somehow knew when each question was filled. No sooner did I fulfill Jack Sparrow's questions than Hector Barbossa came to me with his own question._

**-)(-**

Common to the night, Will sat on the bed. His back pressed against the pillow between him and the wall with dab of Edward's apothecary on his chest. Long ago he surrendered to admitting the pain was present.

Gibbs assumed the pain Will endured as he attempted to end all illness on the wound.

Will's eyes shut as he pressed against the pillow. A small sound of pain escaped along with his loss of breath.

"I know Will," said Gibbs.

"No, you don't," Will told him.

"I do," assured Gibbs. "You're stronger than all men I've known save two or three. You don't give into admitting pain easily."

"Well, if you had to have stitches pulled from your torso morning and evening, a burning, stinging, terrible smelling, sticky cream pressed into your blood including over scratched ribs, and a needle poked through you again only to have the thread pulled out in twelve hours barely having relieved the soreness of the morning or evening's torture session I believe I'm entitled to give into admitting there is pain," Will told him, his voice passionate about his words as well as proving there was pain present when the rag was pressed against him. He pointed to Gibbs. "You don't know."

"When you explain it that way no one knows," said Gibbs. "I've seen worse Will, but I've seen better."

"What of the infection?" asked Will.

"Still present, however it is something I would not devote my hours noting upon. It is very slight and has brought your temperature to higher than it should be," said Gibbs.

"That explains a few things," muttered Will.

"This is why I put you through these torture sessions Will. I don't want the infection growing," said Gibbs.

"And is anything going to heal if you continue to pull the stitches every twelve hours?" wondered Will, his tone quite sarcastic.

"Your side and quite an amount of your stomach require no stitching," said Gibbs. A heavy sigh came from him as he threaded a needle. "The injury above your waist is inflamed and concerning me."

"You just told me it is nothing to worry over," reminded Will, concern coming into his voice.

"There is nothing you can do Will, nothing more than you aren't already doing," said Gibbs. His eyes and face grew grave as he looked at Will. "However, there is one more request I have of you. If you feel your fever is increasing and your chest burning please tell me. The last thing your father needs to have you aboard that ship because of your stubbornness."

Drawing a deep breath, Will's eyes lowered. His response was a simple nod.

'Jack' hopped on the bed.

"Git, 'Jack', get away from that," demanded Gibbs. He shooed 'Jack' from the bed.

"'Jack', leave the man alone," Barbossa's voice said as the man entered the room.

'Jack' looked at him then scurried to the windowsill and screeched out to the night sky. He walked along the floor, his tail curled, to Barbossa.

"Ye don't have to pretend that doesn't hurt lad. A fool would know that to hurt by simply looking at it," said Barbossa.

Will's eyes rolled. Apparently he wasn't acting well enough. "Why are you here?"

"I came here to ask you a question," began Barbossa. Making himself comfortable, he pulled a chair beside Will, removed his hat to set on the bed, crossed his legs, and swirled the wine in his cup.

Both Gibbs and Will exchanged shocked glances. Barbossa seemed more proper and well cultured than they thought.

"Why London?" asked Barbossa.

"Clearly I need better medical attention than what I'm receiving here as Josh noted to me. My wife needs to be looked over. I need to know what the impact physically did to her. Jack has no choice but to come," said Will.

"And you expect the _Black Pearl_ to sail right up the Thames and not be sent to the Locker?" wondered Barbossa.

"I'm not taking the _Pearl_ to London. The _Pearl_ is going to be left anchored in Scotland on an old friend's property. We'll take another ship to London," said Will.

"Which ship?" asked Barbossa as he rose the glass to his mouth.

"Haven't thought of that yet," admitted Will. "Ow!"

"Sorry Will," apologized Gibbs.

"That was my rib Mr. Gibbs," said Will.

"Where are we going to stay in London Mr. Turner?" asked Barbossa.

It was Will's turn to ask a question of his own. "We?"

"I'm certainly not trusting letting you take Jack around London as you please," said Barbossa.

"Are saying you are intending to look out for Jack Sparrow?" asked Will, his voice shocked.

Barbossa's eyes turned to the wine. He swirled the liquid in the glass then drank. "I don't trust anyone around Jack. After your actions recently, I especially don't trust ye. To be honest, ye are about the last person I would leave Jack in the care of."

"Why?" Will asked, slowly moving forward.

Gibbs's forceful hand pushed against Will's shoulder. "Lie still."

Barbossa drank a sip then cradled the glass in his lap. "Ye are the definition of pirate lad. Ye cross everyone to achieve yer own ends. Ye fight for what ye want and will fight to the death if need be. Yer heart passionately, fircely loves. There be nothing more deadly than a pirate with a fierce heart. Yer stubborn and won't give into anything ye don't want. For all we know ye could die tomorrow and we wouldn't have the slightest of warnings until yer flat on the ground dead. Most deadly of all, yer possessive. Elizabeth is yours. A small kiss to kill him and I know ye wanted to kill Sparrow and Elizabeth for kissing him. No offense lad, Elizabeth is temporarily gone from yer life. Yer already devoting yourself to Jack and taking him wherever it is you go. Jack isn't going anywhere unless someone will look after you lad."

"To respond to your question Hector, I intend to stay with people I know in London," said Will.

"Out of the question," said Barbossa. "We are going to an old friend and once colleague of mine."

"Can this friend be trusted?" asked Will.

"He was once pirate alongside me. I sailed with him William," said Barbossa. "Now I know this may seem odd, as I even do not believe these words that are coming from my mouth. This former pirate is now a nobleman of England and a powerful voice in Parliament as well as the merchant trading business. Do not think of me as mad because we know that belongs to Jack and I do know what I am doing. This man's name is Richard Seastone."

Gibbs stopped what he was doing and found his eyes moving to Will.

Laughter erupted in the room. Although his chest was being stitched and a needle close beside him, Will was unable to contain the humor in that. "Impossible. Richard Seastone was never once a pirate. Trust me Barbossa. That man is the last person on Earth who could be pirate."

"I was expecting something like that from you," admitted Barbossa.

Will's laughter stopped as a thought struck his mind. "Why?" he asked.

"Tell me William Seastone, who knows?" asked Barbossa.

"I didn't tell another soul Will," said Gibbs before anything was done to him.

Not hearing Gibbs's words, Will's eyes stared at Barbossa in wonder and disbelief. "How long have you known?"

"Since an acquaintance by the name of Alexander Seastone introduced me to Jack Sparrow and his friend Bill Turner," replied Barbossa.

"My uncle introduced you to Jack?" asked Will.

"Aye, and to be killing him when we arrive," said Barbossa.

"Then you should have known the Turner you wanted was a son," noted Will.

"Bill never mentioned ye much to us lad. He mentioned everything about his child to Jack. We knew yer father had a child and that be about it," explained Barbossa.

"You knew I was a Lord from the beginning?" wondered Will.

"I may be a scallywag pirate, but I do know how to respect another man's past and life," said Barbossa.

"Not much respect for Jack," noted Gibbs.

"There is always one exception to a man's rule," declared Barbossa.

"Richard won't be pleased to see you or any pirate in his home," warned Will.

"Yer the best pirate of us all and I do believe he'll be pleased to see you. It's been too long since we sat by the fire with our wine talking," said Barbossa, anticipation and excitement in his voice. "And the other ship is called _Star of Madagascar_. She be Edward's. I've already spoken to his crew and the Chinese. Arrangements have been made and both ships are preparing to sail in two days."

"Two days?" wondered Will.

Barbossa nodded. "I'll be at the helm of the _Pearl_ teaching ye to captain a ship and therefore ye teach Jack. Edward's first mate will captain the _Star_."

"I can't leave yet," Will said, concern in is voice. "I don't know a thing about Jack Sparrow that Jack should know."

"Ye know, Jack was here a great many times. His father has lived here for years. There is something here William, ye just need to look," said Barbossa.

"Where would I find Edward's crew?" asked Will.

"Eating or drinking their evening wine in the great hall," replied Barbossa.

"And I'm done William," added Gibbs.

Will glanced at his chest seeing the new bandaging. He slipped his arms through his tunic and buttoned it as he left the room.

"Did you truly know who Will is?" asked Gibbs.

"I've known. It explains why his heart is noble," replied Barbossa.

"Does it explain his nasty honest streak?" wondered Gibbs.

"I would expect that was from his father however I can promise ye that his selflessness belongs to his grandfather," said Barbossa.

* * *

Will jogged to the main hall where men were indeed drinking wine and sitting about on the floor. He approached an odd group of men that reminded him of Jack.

"Are you part of Edward's crew?" he asked, pointing at them.

"Part of us. My name just happens to be Duke and yours is…" said Duke.

"Will Turner," replied Will.

Mouths of wine were emptied back into the glass as they looked at him.

"Billy's child?" asked Bailey.

"Aye," replied Will.

Les Char jumped to his feet and grabbed Will's hand. "It be truly an honor to shake the hand of Billy Turner's child."

His eyes narrow in confusion and wonder, Will felt himself move his torso back. He slowly retrieved his hand from the person that was crushing it.

"Why am I such an honor to meet?" he asked.

"Yer father is, don't tell Captain Teague, the best man I've known and he's mentioned so much about ye in the past," replied Les Char.

"I'm not here for just no reason," began Will, an odd smile coming on his face as he wondered just what his father did to this man. "I came here for Jack. I don't know anything about him and I was hoping you could tell me some things about him."

Les Char opened his mouth to speak. He raised his forefinger to Will with a smile on his face. Turning, he shooed the other men to back farther away from him.

Will leaned closer, attempting to listen to their conversation, but also attempted to act casual.

A moment later Les Char and Bailey turned.

Bailey pointed at him. "This was your idea mate. If Cap'n Teague asks this was all your idea and you held us at gunpoint."

"All right," Will slowly replied, his voice unsure.

Soon, he was led out of the main hall to a passage under lock and key. Nothing was spoken to him as he walked through halls hung with tapestry and paintings. The floor below his feet was laid with carpeting. The wood was pure redwood.

"This belongs to Edward. This is his suite," said Bailey. He pointed to several doors. "His quarters. His study. His library. Through his quarters is his private study, which none of us have been in. You will find everything you need through there.

Will gazed around the room. All the wood was redwood. The furniture was cushioned with red pillows, curtains were of heavy red brocade, embroidered with gold cloth, carpeting made in fashion of Persian with many shades of reds and gold.

"Why have you brought me here?" he asked.

"You wanted us to tell you of Jack. We thought it would be more beneficial, seeing as you are not going to be here in Shipwreck Cove forever, that you bring everything of Jack's with you."

"Anything containing Jack Sparrow's name set on this table," said Will, clearing the table in the center of the room.

"Jack's Christian name is Jonathan Galvyn- with a "y" -Thomas Teague," added Les Char.

"He has two middle names," Will noted to himself.

Bailey handed him the ring of keys allowing only Will into the private study.

As he walked to the door leading to Edward's quarters, he looked at the keys. Surely there was not this many keys needed on the ring. At the door, he spent quite some time discovering which keys did not fit through the lock while looking at his fellow mates in the room as they read through papers scattered about and brought more within the room.

Finally, he entered through the door only to discover another locked door at the end of the room. To begin he rummaged through the room finding nothing belonging to Jack.

Unfortunately, the process was to be repeated. Many keys did not fit through the lock. Only one key was destined for this door.

The room beyond the door was spotless clean. It was not what he was expecting. Drawers and cabinets lined the room filed with a few books, neat stacks of paper, and trinkets. A blanket covered chest was on the floor under the window. In the corner of the room rested a desk and chair. This was the only room belonging to Edward's not covered with a rug. The solid redwood reflected his face when he looked down.

Something not of the mortal world guided him to the chest below the window. Although he repeated the process of discovering which keys did not have their destiny with the lock, something in his head told him to keep going,

Upon opening the chest, he knew this was the one thing he was looking for.

Resting on cloth covered piles lied a bear. Just by the pattern of the cloth Will knew this teddy bear belonged to Jack when he was a child. The cloth was black cotton. Fading gave way to the many washes and, therefore, many years of use. The eyes were silver and stitched in such a form that it reminded him of stars. The mouth was formed into a small, childlike smile. In the center of the teddy bear's stomach flew a silver sparrow.

Will pressed the bear against his face. Vaguely, the scent of coconut came through his mind. He set the bear aside to take a pile. Finding it was heavier than he expected he wasn't surprised to discover these being books.

Six dark green leather bound books. No specific markings bore what these books were to be exactly. Book by book he set them in front of them. The bottom book's coloring was faded. Yellow, fraying pages were buried beneath the cover.

His curiosity taken, he opened the cover to the first page. _Jonathan Galvyn Thomas Teague, I write this for you. Although I am a young man newly made father on this day of October 27, I will one day no longer be with you. I write this journal and expect many more to follow so you will always know who your father is and how much I love you. Everyday, or as often as I can, I will write my thoughts of you. And one day, when I am no longer with you or should you be lost from the world, this journal will be here to give you my company and memories we've had together._

Will softly laughed to himself. It was no laugh of humor or amusement, but of shock and disbelief. His search for the quest of Jack Sparrow could very well begin and end with these six journals.

Having the feeling this was what he wanted the journals were delicately placed back in the chest as well as the teddy bear. He dragged the chest into the center of the room.

Bailey and Les Char looked at him with wide, frightened eyes.

"Am I to expect this contains Edward's most valued and personal items?" assumed Will.

Both nodded.

Will understood from the expression on their faces that if anything ever happened to a single paper or item in that chest, he would be hanged on the spot.

"We need to put these on the _Pearl_," he told them.

"Everything?" wondered Les Char.

"Aye, everything," said Will.

"This isn't all of it," said Bailey. "Knowing Jack, you will want to come with me. Charles, start boxing."

Will followed Bailey down the hall away from Edward's suite. "Are you joining us on this venture?"

"Aye, I am one of those that must come," replied Bailey. "Turner, I am Edward's first mate. He would trust his ship in no other hands than my own. Perhaps he would trust Jack, but Jack is currently out of the question."

"Has this sort of thing happened to Jack before?" wondered Will.

"Not to this manner mate, but he has lost a few hours of memory inside his mind. A few severe head wounds have done that," said Bailey.

"How would you describe Jack Sparrow in a single word?" Will suddenly asked.

Bailey laughed aloud as he turned his head to look at Will. "Impossible. If ever there was definition for the word impossible this is it mate. Jack Sparrow is not a single personality. Sometimes we think Jack has two personalities and he does. He has an image for the world and an image in private. Seeing the two within an hour you would think Jack Sparrow is two people in one, but he isn't."

"How do you know?" asked Will.

"Turner," began Bailey as he stopped in the middle of a hall. "You will understand when you begin to understand Jack."

Thinking of that, Will's eyes lowered in thought. Clearly, this task was not going to be as simple as he thought. Since meeting him, he has only known one Jack Sparrow. To hear that he changes in private is another matter. He must now understand both to bring Jack back.

A whistle at the end of the hall brought his mind into what he had to do. He jogged to Bailey.

"Where are you taking me?" he asked.

"Well, you need to take the Code with you and Jack will need a few bottles of medicines," said Bailey.

"The Code?" wondered Will. His eyes narrowed in thought. "The Pirate's Code?"

"As set down by Morgan and Bartholomew," said Bailey.

"I didn't think the Code existed in paper form. Always thought it was told from pirate to pirate," admitted Will.

"Ah, here we are," noted Bailey as he entered the Courtroom.

Will took a quick look around. He walked along the table, allowing is fingers to touch the wood until he came to the end. As his companion went into an adjacent room, he was more interested in the selection of guitars leaning about on the chair in the back. He made himself comfortable in the chair and put his feet up on the side of a chest in front. One of the guitar strings was snapped. He strummed his fingers down the other notes. Such a beautiful harmonious sound echoed in the room.

"Musically minded Turner?" asked Bailey

Will turned his head. "The opposite of." He saw the thick wrapped book like object under Bailey's left arm. It was bigger than he expected.

"Jack," began Bailey, his breath dwelling on the "k". He moistened his lips. "Jack loves music."

"Never thought Jack to be the musical liking type," said Will as he stood.

Bailey smiled. "There have been days Edward has sat outside Jack's door listening to him write."

"Jack writes his own music?" wondered Will.

"Turner, Jack Sparrow has composed a book of music since I last knew him," said Bailey. He walked out of the room. "Come."

Will hopped over the chest. He took a few steps before he noticed the guitar in his hand and made to put it back.

"Don't you even think it. That is coming with us," Bailey told him.

Trusting him, as he knew nothing of Jack, Will shrugged and met up to Bailey. "Have you heard Jack's music?"

The look on Bailey's face softened as his heart skipped a few beats. "Once, years ago I was making rounds finishing something for Edward. It required me to bring items from his ship. I passed by the _Pearl_. This was the middle of the night. I heard him playing and singing."

"Jack sings?" asked Will, suddenly. His expression was complete shock on his face.

"Jack's voice is higher on the male range. Placing it musically, he is a tenor according to Edward. His voice is beautiful. A single note somehow has a melody and harmony at once. That one time I heard his voice I stopped dead on the dock to listen. Jack's voice is specific. The tone comes direct from his heart and soul. It's soft and sounds like a lullaby. It isn't quite pure and angelic. The way he talks is how he sounds when he sings. No- that's not true. I don't know how to describe his voice. You need to hear it to understand."

"Jack Sparrow singing and writing music," Will whispered to himself. He laughed. "And I thought his music knowledge amounted to telling the world that I have a lovely soprano voice. I don't know how to sing much less play guitar."

"Well," began Bailey. "I hope you've always wanted to learn."

"Learn what?" asked Will, not liking the way this was sounding.

"Learning to play guitar, perhaps having singing lessons as well," said Bailey.

Will grabbed Bailey's arm to turn him around. "I am not learning to play guitar and I refuse to sing for another. I can't sing."

"Everyone can sing," Bailey told him.

"I can't," Will told him.

"You haven't been taught how to put it to use," said Bailey. "Can you let me go? We're not finished mate."

Will released him. "Why me?"

"This Jack trusts you. I've seen it. You've become the one person Jack trusts to be there for him. Ironically, your father was that man," said Bailey.

"Did my father learn to sing and play?" asked Will, his voice quite sarcastic.

"Your father asked Jack to teach him. I believe that is a yes," said Bailey.

"Will this help Jack?" asked Will.

"Music was as much a part of his life as his ship," replied Bailey. "I told you Jack seemed like two people. In private, music is his passion. Publicly, sailing is his passion."

"Music and sailing," muttered Will. "Any other passions I need to know of?"

"Not passion, but more important to him," said Bailey, careful of his words. "Jack doesn't have the healthiest of souls."

"He lives on luck and good fortune," agreed Will.

"Not quite," said Bailey. "He lives upon his father's apothecary."

"What do you mean by that?" wondered Will.

Saying nothing, Bailey simply motioned to follow.

Curiosity at its peek and his mind through with the games of mystery, Will rolled his eyes but did follow. It seemed the only method to have him understand was to be shown.

The two walked into a room.

Will was past the doorway, unable to move further as wondered and thought consumed his mind. Every medical instrument known to man lined the room on shelves. Some were obvious to their use, others however, he had no desire what it was needed for no matter how simple the procedure. A bed in the center of the room had sheets that were meant to be white. Knowing that was the color of washed blood, Will turned away.

He joined Bailey by a bookshelf on the left side of the room.

"See every one of those bottles?" Bailey asked as he searched through the books. "Place them in this crate."

Will looked at the shelves of bottles. "All of them?"

"I would if I were you. I doubt Jack's body will allow him to remain healthy in London. It is coming on autumn there. Temperatures will lower and Jack was never one to keep warm easily," said Bailey.

Trusting him as he had done so far and not being let down yet, Will nodded. He brought the crate closer and began settling bottles in there, largest on the bottom, smallest on top. Taking the first bottle in his hand he saw a string attach a piece of paper. _Pain relief._ He took another. _Surgical recovery. _And another. _Unconsciousness. Fever. Infection. Malaria. Yellow fever. Pneumonia._

"Bailey," whispered Will.

"Ah ha!" exclaimed Bailey, reaching for a book in the shelf. He noticed Will's pale, horrified expression. "You will want to memorize this book Turner. It contains symptoms of illness, the course of the illness, and treatment as well as the proper medicines and amounts to provide."

"Has Jack had every one of these?" wondered Will, pointing at the remaining bottles.

"Unfortunately yes," said Bailey. He took the largest bottle of all. "Jack has required this bottle more than everything else. Too many times before has Jack been given the contents of this here bottle. The only method for him to heal with ease is to simply not have him aware of the pain and what his father must to keep him alive."

"I never imagined Jack to be the one with a simple cough," admitted Will.

"You'll learn when you begin to understand him," reminded Bailey.

"I'm not sure if I want to understand Jack Sparrow," said Will.

"Someone has to," Bailey told him.

"Surely Barbossa or Gibbs or you even can better handle Jack's mind than me," said Will.

Bailey slammed a book on the floor. "Will, it's not about you anymores. Every word from your mouth has been a compliant. I am simply assisting you. Remember, it was you who came to me because you didn't know anything about Jack. You have taken it upon yourself to bring Jack Sparrow's memory back. You made him a promise. I know this because Jack showed every person he saw the necklace. You brought this upon yourself. Going into the mind of Jack Sparrow is no simple task. There are horrors in Jack's life not even his father knows and I doubt your father knows as well. You have to reawaken every moment in Jack's life." He looked at Will. "Do you care if Jack remembers?"

"I want him to remember," Will told him.

"Then stop thinking for yourself," Bailey spat. He slapped Will's arm and stood. "We have to go to Jack's room. Hurry up."

Muttering to himself, Will collected the bottles and jars then followed Bailey. Through with his companions domineering manor, he volunteered to not speak on the way to Jack's rooms. Although it didn't surprise him, Jack's suite was nearly exactly like his father's however on the opposite side of the fortress.

"What am I looking for in here?" asked Will.

"Start folding blankets. I'll hand you everything you need," said Bailey.

"Should we sail Jack's room to London?" Will asked him sarcastically.

Bailey whipped around with a raised finger. Deciding against it, he forced a smile and disappeared into another room.

Will began wandering in and out of the rooms with blankets of all thickness. He questioned Jack's health when he brought fur blankets into the main room. Thin, cotton blankets in the Caribbean was acceptable. Fur however, implied something wrong. Even though fur blankets impressed him, he was more impressed at the pile of folded blankets on the floor when he was through as well as the pillows, guitars, books, random knickknacks, charts and maps, coats and clothes, soaps, spices, and incense.

Not even being told to do so, Will began wandering from the fortress to the _Black Pearl_.

A single foot on the ship, the entire crew surrounded him.

"Will, are we really going to London?" asked Pintel.

"I always wanted to go to London," Ragetti added.

"Aye, we are going to London," Will told them as he pushed through. "Why? Because I have relatives in London and medical knowledge has advanced. We have no where else to go."

"But I don't want to go to London," said Pintel.

"It's too close to the Navy," noted Marty.

"Sometimes to hide you must go into the enemy's territory," Will said as he walked into Jack's cabin.

He tripped over a chest. Dropping the armful of blankets, he looked about.

A monkey scurried across the piles on the table to hop on his shoulder.

"Ah, William, more," noted Barbossa, his voice less than enthusiastic. "I thought I would organize Jackie's items."

"Don't touch anything Jack wouldn't want you to," said Will.

"Turner," said Barbossa as he walked over the piles and messes. "I know Sparrow doesn't want me touching anything of his, but he has no choice now does he."

Will nodded. "There is more than this."

"I expected so," said Barbossa.

Will made to leave, but turned to Barbossa.

Behind him, Barbossa sighed heavily. He jumped over piles and continued stacking books in the corner. Standing, he removed his coat and sashes as well as his hat. He untied the bandana from his head to braid his hair instead. He rolled up his sleeves and continued.

"Do you want help?" asked Will.

Barbossa looked around the room. "It's better for ye to help me in here than drag chests and heavy items from the Cove lad. Mr. Gibbs won't be pleased to here ye stacking and moving things in here. I don't want ye overdoing it lad. I don't need that infection on yer chest growing."

"Are you admitting what I think you are?" wondered Will as he approached. "Are you worried about me?"

"Looking after ye rather. If anything ever happened to ye yer father would come in all his fury and hate to me first lad. I don't want that happening," said Barbossa. He looked at Will's shoulder. "I think 'Jack' here likes yer company anyway."

Will looked at the monkey sitting on his shoulder calmly and collectively. He nodded as he wandered to the pile of blankets. After navigating through the piles of junk, he set the blankets in Jack's quarters on a chair.

"And William, Elizabeth can have the other quarters. Ye and Jack are going to share his quarters. I think Jack will feel best that way, being that close to the man who made a promise," added Barbossa.

"He did tell everyone he saw," said Will with a laugh to himself. He looked at Barbossa. "What about you then?"

"I can make a fine little room below deck," said Barbossa.

"What a mess," Bailey's voice noted.

"I have company so the mess will be relieved," called Barbossa.

Bailey looked at Will and nodded in approval. "Best for your recovery anyway."

"Does everyone know what happened to me?" Will asked them, his voice sarcastic.

"Jack and Elizabeth as well," added Barbossa.

"Why?" wondered Will.

Bailey sought the time to leave as opportune.

"They saw the three of ye when ye were brought here. Master Ragetti nearly had a breakdown over ye three," said Barbossa.

"He's not what I expected of a man when I first met him. He's odd and not quite smart, but he's a good man. Good friend," said Will. "I'll admit my opinion of you has changed."

"Ah, how so?" wondered Barbossa. Hopping over piles once more. "Before ye go and explain that, we need a path from one end to the other."

"Aye," agreed Will quite suddenly.

"Eh, forget it," said Barbossa. "Now, tell me, what did ye think of me before."

"You remember me as I was before," wondered Will. Barbossa nodded. "Use your imagination."

"And I'll admit you have changed quite a bit since then young Master Turner," said Barbossa.

"Haven't we all?" noted Will.

"Ye've changed the most," said Barbossa.

"Enlighten me," requested Will, quite curious.

Barbossa stood to arch his back before continuing to manage the heavy crates and chests. "Before, ye were a naïve little brat unaware of the world but a single woman. Ye had not one eye upon the world until your Mrs. Turner was taken. So, I did ye a favor when I took her. I'll say simply watching you while on our journey to Singapore I learned quite a bit. Ye changed into a fine pirate and a damn good man. Yer everything like your father was. There were times I nearly called ye Bill. Unlike your father, ye worked to achieve yer own ends, kniving, stealing, lying, and keeping burdens for yer own good. I think ye've made a better pirate than yer father could ever become."

"How so?" wondered Will.

"Yer father was too selfless. He didn't care about what happened to himself and in the end I think he regretted that small honest trait of his," noted Barbossa.

Will nodded. He leaned on a chair not piled with items. Eventually, he slowly sunk on the chair. Breathing deeply, he looked at his chest. Although he thought it was bleeding, he was pleased to discover no blood and only white bandage. However, the wound burned painfully, not having taken this amount of strain since coming upon his body.

"Ye going to live lad?" asked Barbossa.

"Aye," replied Will, holding his arm out for "Jack" to scurry down to the table. "How did you acquire the Piece of Eight to the lake?"

Barbossa stood. He looked at Will with pursed lips and a raised eyebrow. "Unlike ye it seems, I find it to be a great honor. Although my domain is a lake I am still Pirate Lord."

"Pirate King," Will told him, pointing at himself.

"Every King needs a Queen. _Elizabeth_, was named King," said Barbossa.

Will's eyes narrowed in confusion but looked around as he thought. Understanding, he nodded. "Well, I am temporary Keeper, King and Queen, and Lord of the Caribbean and Singapore."

"Anyhow," said Barbossa, now joining Will at the table. "My older sister was a pirate herself and a collector of odd objects. The eye was her prized possession. Before pirating, she handed the eye to me and told me 'Hector, I leave this to you for safe keeping. Never, never lose it. I hope you'll understand someday.' Unfortunately, that was the last time I saw her. She was killed of course by the Navy."

"I'm sorry. I do know how that is," said Will.

"No ye don't," Barbossa said, his voice quiet and eyes looking back into the past. "I was barely fourteen years old when she was murdered and my parents were long dead. After her death I met yer grandfather. I'll tell ye of our adventures one day."

"Did you know it was a piece of eight?" wondered Will.

"Not right away," admitted Barbossa. "It wasn't until I accompanied Jack on his venture to Tia Dalma. Now my wonder of her knowing it was a piece of eight is solved. Wouldn't ye know one of the nine pieces that bound ye in a single form?"

"How did Ragetti lose his eye?" Will suddenly asked.

Barbossa raised a finger. He quietly stood then left the room.

Will leaned back while still sitting in the chair. He watched as Barbossa spoke with Ragetti and Pintel. Thinking he was asking permission to tell, he had to admit that was something else he was not expecting from Barbossa.

Apparently Ragetti accepted. He looked at Will and waved while nodding his head in approval.

Barbossa walked back into the cabin. He resumed his place beside Will in the chair. "Ragetti doesn't like sharing this to the entire world. Yer lucky he'll let ye know this. He trusts ye and admires ye Will. Even Master Pintel finds it accepting to have ye know. He doesn't like to be reminded of it so keep quiet. Ragetti spoke up in his parents' and brother's defense a long, long time ago. The lad was barely twenty. And this was against the Navy mind ye. The Navy and their usual habits of torture decided to take out his eye with a cooking knife."

Will's face went sour as he thought of the occasion in his own mind.

"Him and his brother managed to escape their prison cell in the middle of the night with help from their parents. The four of them were criminals, thieves to be exact. His parents told Pintel to look after his little brother and see to it that he gets a glass eye one day," added Barbossa.

"When we're in London I'll-," began Will then looked at Barbossa in the eye. "Pintel get his little brother a glass eye…" Barbossa nodded. "Pintel and Ragetti are brothers?"

"Pintel is thirteen years older than Ragetti," said Barbossa.

"Another question I have from the world is solved," noted Will.

"Aye, they do everything together. They run away together, took the medallions at the same time, fire the same cannon, swam the same river, go on the same tasks, if one of them wanted to join the Navy the other would as well," said Barbossa.

"I hope this isn't true," Will muttered to himself then spoke up. "Did Ragetti acquire his passion for cooking after then?"

Barbossa nodded. "He's been cooking since he was a little lad. And what about ye? Did ye want to be a blacksmith?"

"I grew up in London wanting to be a merchant sailor like my father. I wanted to own my own company and have dozens of ships at my command," said Will. "What about you?"

"I simply wanted my own ship," announced Barbossa proudly.

Bailey walked in the room again. He took a look around. "I think two of you in here are worse than one doing everything by himself."

"He says good words Turner," noted Barbossa. He motioned to the door with his head. "Ye rest for the night. I can handle this on my own. Ye've separated the piles of what ye want anyway. I won't go through anything. It's not my place knowing what is in everything."

"And it is mine?" wondered Will.

"More yers than mine," said Barbossa.

Will slumped. He looked at the two of them then sighed. Knowing he was going to receive looks from both of them until he left, he simply stood and walked out. Upon entering the fortress, he did note the late time of night. Recalling on everything he did in his life, his last conversation was one of the longest shared with another person.

He wandered the deserted halls of Shipwreck City alone and with his thoughts. Barbossa was quite a sophisticated gentleman, received his Piece of Eight by his older sister, Pintel and Ragetti were brothers, and half of Shipwreck Cove managed to store itself inside the _Black Pearl_. This night was full of surprises.

Before walking to his own room, Will poked his head into Jack's bedroom, as he was not there before.

Jack was asleep on his side in the moonlight. He was peaceful and calm. His arms were his pillow and he was still wearing his boots and belt.

A smile widened across Will's face. Jack apparently had a good night after he was taken away by Gibbs. He pulled Jack's boots and belt from him then covered him with his blanket. Perhaps he was becoming possessive over Jack, but he realized a connection the two had that was past down from father to son. He replaced his father's position in Jack Sparrow's life.

Leaving Jack alone, Will quietly walked out of the room. He left for his own room and changed into comfortable night clothes. Having not been alone once for the day, he decided to continue his company.

The room next to him was where he slept the night beside Elizabeth.

**-)(-**

"_That's so romantic," whispered Anamaria as she rested her head against Jack's shoulder and curled her arms around his left arm._

_Elizabeth rested her head against my chest. She sat herself in my lap._

_I leaned back to look at her face. Her eyes were shut but a soft smile was imprinted into her lips. Perfectly content, she simply listened to my heart beating. I set my arms around her and shut my own eyes. The two of us shared a small moment together._

_Liam tugged on the sleeve of my tunic. "Keep going. When did you left Shipwreck City?"_

"_Oh," I said, shaking my head from the small moment but did not dare to release my arms from it. _

_We didn't leave until the day after the next. The day before I found myself standing on the Pearl, at the helm, wondering about a few things. I didn't know anything about captaining a ship. All I knew was what it took to be part of a pirate crew and I thought that was difficult._

**-)(-**


	3. III

Gazing at the folded sails, Will thought of the tasks ahead of him. He was to help Jack remember who he was and, in doing so, learn to sing and play guitar, memorize a book of medicines and illnesses and Edward's private journals, captain a pirate ship, face his family again, heal the steady infection on his chest, teach Jack everything he was learning, and somehow make his wife wake. The very thought of everything caused his head to spin and mind already tire.

"Why me?" he asked the clouds in the sky.

He walked slowly across the deserted ship. Everyone else was in the fortress eating breakfast and saying farewells to the other Lords and their crews. His eyes went to the helm and feet took him there.

Slowly, his hands grasped the wheel. He looked across the ship. Many days and hours he stood beside Barbossa watching over the crew. Since partaking in piracy, he did want to captain a ship. On the journey to Singapore, there were times he was asked to take the wheel. Clearly he was trusted enough to at least take the wheel. During those times, he felt the freedom Jack always spoke of. Over time, the desire to have his own ship grew inside of him. Since he was a child he did want to captain his own ship. Although his wish was soon to come true it was wrong. Had Jack not lost his memory he wouldn't be learning all that it takes to captain a ship.

Feeling this was wrong, he took his hands from the wheel to simply sit on the helm stairs. His elbows rested on his knees and fingers grab his hair to support his head. This was very, very wrong. The world seemed to believe restoring Jack's memory was _his_ doing and only _his_ alone. Of course he would receive help, but no one would do anything for Jack. Already, he noticed help to himself and not to Jack. Anything involving Jack was dealt with through him. He was in physical and mental pain and everything in the world depended upon him.

For the thousandth time in his life, he wanted his father to simply hold him and tell him everything was going to be alright. He knew it was a childish thought, but even grown men needed their fathers on occasion. Now that he knew his father existed he wanted him now more than ever. By the time his father was free everything could possibly and hopefully be resolved. If Elizabeth would simply wake and Jack suddenly remember again everything in his world would return to normal as much as it could after seeing and facing everything since he was twenty. His world changed and he didn't have the time to change with it.

"Will?" Jack's voice called.

Will slowly raised his head.

Jack Sparrow stood on the dock with confusion on his face as he went on the tip of his toes to search the ships.

"I'm right here Jack," Will called back as he walked across the deck to meet Jack on the dock.

A smile spread across Jack's face as he walked on the dock and climbed onto the _Pearl_ like he had so many times before. Unlike several things he had done since coming down with amnesia climbing aboard the _Pearl_ was not a questioned action.

"What is it Jack?" asked Will.

"I was just wondering where you were," replied Jack as his eyes gazed all around.

"This is a ship Jack," said Will.

"The _Black Pearl_?" asked Jack slowly.

Will nodded with half a smile on his face. "This is your ship Jack."

Jack looked at Will. "You're going to teach me right?"

"After Barbossa teaches me," said Will. Jack looked at him oddly. "Jack, I don't know how to do everything. I'll teach you to captain a ship after I'm taught."

"Can you teach me to read and write?" asked Jack.

"Of course," replied Will.

"I looked at a book this morning and didn't know what to do with it. Hector said you read books and I can't read," said Jack.

"I'll teach you when we are at sea sometime soon. I promise," said Will.

"When are we leaving?" wondered Jack.

"Early tomorrow morning," replied Will.

"Then what are we going to do today?" wondered Jack as he stepped closer to Will.

Will shrugged as he leaned against the side of the ship. He clutched the rail in his palm. "Whatever you want Jack."

Observing Will, Jack mimicked the position he was standing. Exactly.

"Do you want me to answer more questions that you have?" asked Will.

"You don't know a lot about me so that does no good," said Jack. "Sorry."

"I'm solving that problem soon. I found journals your father wrote since you were born. It has everything about your life in it," said Will. He stood straight again. "Perhaps when you can read I'll let you read those."

"I think that would be helpful," said Jack.

"So what do you want to do?" Will asked again.

Jack shrugged. "What is there to do?"

This time Will shrugged. "I'm not familiar with this place so I'm not sure." He leaned his arms over the rail.

Jack imitated his same position again.

Will looked at him with a thought in his eyes. "Did I ever tell you the time we first met?"

"We met in Port Royal," said Jack. His eyes widened. "Is this a good time to explain to me what a pirate is because you said you would when there was more time and it's only morning?"

"I don't think I can do that," Will told him. Jack's face formed into a disappointed pout. "It isn't because I don't want to tell you Jack. Each definition for a pirate is different as you ask. I don't know how to explain what pirates are. For the longest time of my life I hated pirates. Until I was dragged into their world by you, I never understood. Now, I find there are no better men in the world than pirates. I understand. I can't explain it to you. Jack, I cannot explain it to myself. It is something I simply saw and understood. Eventually, I became that person."

"Since I'm a pirate am I a good man?" wondered Jack.

Will turned his body to look at him. "Jack Sparrow, I don't believe I can meet a better man than you."

Knowing that was a compliment, Jack smiled to himself. "Everything inside of me feels warm and something else. I don't know what it means."

"That is the feeling of pride and happiness. It's a good feeling to have," said Will.

"Well then that's good," said Jack.

"Have you eaten anything yet?" wondered Will.

"Yes, but have you?" asked Jack.

Will shook his head. "I've not been hungry recently."

"I don't know a lot but I know that isn't right," said Jack.

"I'll be fine Jack," Will told him.

"I don't care," said Jack. He grabbed Will's arm. "You are coming with me and I'm going to make you eat something."

"Jack," began Will.

"William, shut it," Jack snapped as he turned to face Will.

For a single moment Will's heart stopped beating. Only Jack Sparrow as he should be spoke those words like that.

Finding it difficult to pull away from Jack's grasp, Will willingly followed his companion to the kitchen.

"Mr. whoever-only-has-one-eye, come here," called Jack.

"His name is Ragetti," muttered Will.

Jack turned to Will and pointed at him. "Thank you." He looked out at the faces again. "Mr. Ragetti, come here."

Through the crowd, Ragetti came running with a bowl and the spoon in his hand was still mixing. "Aye Captain?"

"Captain?" wondered Jack.

"I already told you. The ship we were just on, you are captain of that ship. You were before you lost your memory," said Will.

"Oh," Jack said dully. He shook it aside before pointing to Will. "He needs to eat something."

Ragetti looked at Will. "What do you want Mr. Turner?"

"I'm not hungry Ragetti. You don't have to make anything for me," said Will.

He cried out when a sharp slap smacked the back of his head. Turning, he watched as Jack lowered his hand and glared at him. Will sighed as he looked at Ragetti.

"Anything warm."

"All right," said Ragetti before walking briskly back into the kitchens.

Jack dragged Will to an open place in the center of the room. "Why don't you want to eat? I don't feel well when I don't eat? Do you not feel anything when you are hungry?"

"I've not been hungry Jack. Perhaps I have been hungry, but I don't feel hungry," said Will. "And why do you want me to eat."

"Not eating is bad," Jack told him. "I don't want anything bad happening to you. You're all I have Will. I can't lose you."

"You have more than me Jack. Look around you. We are all going to help you remember who you are. I promised you," said Will.

Jack's eyes did gaze around the room at the many faces. "Are you sure?"

"Of course Jack," said Will. He leaned forward to trace the necklace with the tips of his fingers.

A half smile spread across Jack's face, once again reminding Will it was Jack Sparrow in front of him.

"Ah Will, I've been looking for you lad," called Gibbs as he scurried his way through the crowd.

"What now Josh?" asked Will.

"Since we are going to London and will be staying in your grandfather's home, I thought it appropriate that you two bathe today," said Josh.

"What?" wondered Jack, turning to Will.

Will's eyebrow raised as he looked at Gibbs. He pulled his tunic aside with one hand as the other pointed to his chest. "And how am I to do that?"

"I'm still working on it Will," said Gibbs.

"What are we going to do?" Jack asked Will.

"We are going to take a bath apparently, which means clean our bodies with hot water and soaps," said Will. "Trust me, it will feel good for you. I have the feeling it will not feel well on myself."

"Why not?" asked Jack.

"Oils and soaps and dirty water don't feel good on healing wounds," said Will.

"So it hurts then," assumed Jack.

Will nodded. "It will."

"Don't worry Jack," said Gibbs, seeing the concern in Jack's eyes. "I assure you I'm not going to hurt Will. We'll find a way to clean out his chest with clean water."

"I'll make sure of that," Will told him. He moved Jack's head so he was looking into Jack's eyes. "Don't worry about me."

"I do because you are all I have Will. I don't trust anyone else but you," said Jack.

"I thought we've been through this Jack," said Will. His eyes moved to Gibbs. "What about Mr. Gibbs?"

"All he does is hurt you. Why would I trust someone who only hurts you?" said Jack.

"He isn't hurting me Jack. He's helping me heal, keeping me alive," said Will. "Do you know what happened to me?"

Jack shook his head. "No, if you haven't remembered, I don't have a memory."

Will opened his mouth to speak just as Ragetti returned to him.

"I made you warm biscuits and porridge with cinnamon and sugar. I remembered Bill liked this. And I brought strawberry jam too cuz Bill really liked that," said Ragetti.

"Actually, I do like it. A lot," said Will as he took the plate.

He offered Jack a bite, but the pirate refused and told Will it was his to eat and he was going to make sure Will ate it all.

So, Will ate while speaking with the other members of the Pirate Court, which fascinated him and Jack. By the time he finished his food, the porridge was freezing and not at all appetizing. Staying true to his word, Jack did make Will eat the food before allowing him to leave.

Not long after, Will found himself standing near a tub of steaming water dressed in a robe simply wondering how he was going to bathe his body when his chest and belly were in the condition that it is. Oils and soaps foamed the surface of the water, so clearly he didn't want to submerge his chest and his belly was another matter. However, his chest was more deeply cut of the two wounds.

Towels were piled on a shelf in the corner. His eyes lit as he came up with a solution. He grabbed two towels, and submerged them in the water before slowly stepping in the tub. The idea was quite successful. Sitting on the towels caused the water to stop at his elbows, giving his wound plenty of distance from the water.

Of the areas that he submerged, his body thanked him. Months of dirt, sweat, and sea grim washed from his body. With a rag soaked in soaps, he washed what he could of his body.

If it was possible for this feeling to be true, Will felt lighter than he did before washing his body.

He managed to submerse more of his body under the water without causing the oils, soaps, and now grim to go into his wound. Content by the smells, quiet atmosphere, and warm water, he felt his eyes shut. Drifting into a light sleep, he saw Jack as Jack Sparrow should be.

"I hope you aren't intending to get that wound of yours infected Will."

"I don't Josh," said Will.

"Then perhaps you should sit up," said Gibbs.

Will opened his eyes and breathed sharply as he pushed himself from beneath the water. He held his breath, not allowing the scream of pain to come forth. Instead, he breathed deeply.

"You were like that for a time weren't you?" wondered Gibbs.

"How long have I been in here?" asked Will.

"Over an hour," replied Gibbs.

"My guess is it was close to an hour," said Will. "I most likely feel asleep."

"I noticed," muttered Gibbs.

Hearing the familiar sound of glass colliding together, Will shut his eyes as he turned his head. On another towel beside the tub were many glass bottles. Some looked familiar and others were new.

"Now what are you going to do to me?" he wondered.

"As you know, I need to clean that wound," said Gibbs. "More than I did before seeing as you decided to soak it in filthy water."

"Cold filthy water," muttered Will.

"Ragetti is solving that problem," said Gibbs.

As if on cue, Ragetti entered the room with two large buckets, one on each side. "I have more hot water Will."

Looking at the bucket an idea came to Will. He looked at Gibbs who was looking at him apparently thinking the same thought.

"Ragetti, bring more," said Will, the thought being reflected in his voice.

"All right," said Ragetti. "How many more buckets do you need?"

"Three or four," replied Gibbs.

Ragetti nodded. "Of course." He sprinted from the room.

The two buckets were added to the water, warming it greatly.

Sighing, Will shut his eyes again. "Why do you need four buckets of clean water?

"One to clean your chest, two for your hair, and the last is to be used for the rag that will remove the dead skin from your chest," said Gibbs.

"Are you going to pull the stitches from my chest?" asked Will.

"It must be done," said Gibbs.

"Fine," muttered Will.

After the many nights and mornings of stitching being removed and replaced, Will sat calmly in the water. He played with the bubbles, creating towers out of them and piling them onto his knee. Pain was present, however, it was pain familiar to him.

Once Ragetti returned with the third and fourth bucket, Will continued to sit with his eyes staring at the bubbles.

"You know this is going to hurt," warned Gibbs.

"Hot water generally causes wounds pain," said Will as he brought his left hand down since Gibbs was on his left side.

The moment the hot water touched his skin, Will bit his lip and breathed deeply. He turned his head to watch the sheer ivory curtains dance by the gentle breeze. When Gibbs began scrubbing across the cut, he squeezed his eyes shut. He felt every piece of dead skin pulling from his living body.

"You have no idea how much this hurts," he whispered.

"I've seen that look on too many faces not to have an idea," said Gibbs.

The usual mixture of healing plants and herbs was smeared across his chest. Since nothing was to keep the mixture from entering his body entirely, Will pressed his back against the side of the tub, as all he felt was the immense stinging.

"Every time you put that on my chest, it hurts worse than before," he said through his teeth.

"Do not tell me that Will. This medication has been known to cause immense pain before infection sets in. Having an infection on these areas of your body is not something I want to happen," said Gibbs.

"You won't be the one with the infection," Will told him. "And I believe it was because the dead skin was removed and therefore is allowing your _lovely_ blends to enter my body."

Gibbs nodded his head. That was quite a true possibility as well. "Tilt you head back, we need to wash this hair of yours."

Agreeing whole heartedly, Will leaned his head back. Again, he felt his head lighten as soaps and oils were rubbed into his hair, and washed out.

"Vanilla," he whispered, breathing deeply. "And a flower."

"Rose petals Will," said Gibbs. "Your father mentioned a few things here and there he wanted you to accomplish. Bathing was one of them. He also mentioned a few oils and soaps to use."

A wide smile came across Will's relaxed face. "What else did my father mention to you?"

"Other than the necessities of eating, drinking, sleeping and bathing, he did tell all of us to keep an eye out for you. With his mind, he saw you doing something stupid," said Gibbs. Will rolled his eyes. "You have been know to do stupid actions Will. He also said to write on occasion."

"And how do I send a paper letter to a world away?" wondered Will.

"Bill and Tia Dalma have an agreement between them. For some reason, she wants you to write to your father. According to her, she said you would need to tell him things you wouldn't dare tell anyone else. I would expect these things to involve Jack. It is as though she knew Jack would have no memory."

"She once told me I have a touch of destiny within me. When Governor Swann was telling of the chest, she said 'a touch of destiny'," said Will.

Gibbs's eyes lit with wonder and a thought inside his head. "William, have you considered those words?"

"I have Josh. Quite recently I've been thinking of these past few months," said Will. He ran his finger alongside the scar until he felt a strong beat. "I have realized it was meant to be me. I was supposed to be the captain of the _Flying Dutchman_. During that battle, something happened she didn't see or someone wasn't supposed to be there." His eyes gazed distantly. "Everyday, when I feel my heart beat and see the scar I know it was supposed to be me. I can't let it go."

"Perhaps this is something you should write your father," suggested Gibbs.

"Should I tell him of Jack?" wondered Will.

"Your father knows Jack Sparrow better than Edward or I," said Gibbs.

"Then how do I tell him?" asked Will.

"You simply tell him. You need your father to help you in this matter. Jack Sparrow has a dark past. I know some things you don't about him," said Gibbs.

"Such as?" asked Will.

Joshamee Gibbs shook his head. "Ask your father. Not me Will." He stood and collected the bottles. "Don't stay in the water too much longer. I need to stitch you up yet."

"Let me dry and get into my robe. I'll meet you in my room," said Will.

Gibbs gave a nod of his head before leaving the room.

For a few minutes, Will allowed his eyes to remain shut as he simply soaked in the water. Feeling the temperature cool with each second, he stepped out of the tub and dried off.

While walking to his room, he squeezed small amounts of his hair in the towel.

"Will," Jack's voice called behind him.

"Aye," said Will as he stopped and turned.

Jack opened his mouth to speak then looked at Will in curiosity and wonder. "Why are you dripping?"

"I took a bath Jack and you're next," said Will.

"Oh," replied Jack.

"You wanted me?" wondered Will.

Jack raised a finger then shut his mouth. "I can't remember what I was going to say to you."

"I do that too," said Will.

"You don't remember what you are going to say before you say something so it isn't just me?" wondered Jack.

Answering his question, Will simply nodded. He motioned Jack to follow him. "Can you do something for me within the hour?"

"Of course," said Jack.

"I need you to comb my hair. I know it needs it and I know I cannot get the back," said Will.

"Comb your hair?" asked Jack.

"I'll show you," said Will.

Not long after, Will sat against several pillows in long trousers simply watching Gibbs thread a needle. He felt eyes gazing at him.

Jack's wide eyes stared up and down the cut on Will's torso. His mouth was slightly open.

Will followed his eyes. He lifted Jack's head. "Your memory was lost. My life nearly ended. A sword came across my torso and that's all I remember."

"Someone did this to you?" wondered Jack quietly.

"Someone," emphasized Will. "I don't know who, but someone."

Jack's eyes narrowed in sadness as he looked at Will. "Why would someone do this to _you_?"

"Battle is never clear. Enemies fight and have but one desire: kill the opposing side. I was on the opposing side of the person who did this to me," said Will.

"Lay back," Gibbs's voice said as his hand went on Will's shoulder.

Jack watched as the tip of the needle disappeared within his friend's flesh. His eyes widened in terror as he looked at Will's face as his face paled and body cringed.

"This doesn't hurt badly Jack. It has to be done for me to heal properly," said Will.

"It looks like it hurts," Jack told him.

"Nope," said Will, shaking his head.

On purpose it seemed, Will breathed sharply and flinched. He turned to Gibbs with a glare.

His own eyes narrow, Gibbs looked at Will, he knowing the truth as well as Will.

"Doesn't hurt?" wondered Jack.

"I said it doesn't hurt badly. That was the badly of my words," said Will.

"It looks painful to me," muttered Jack.

"Jackie, I've had this done every morning and evening for days and every time this area always causes the most pain," said Will.

"Which is what concerns me," said Gibbs.

"Why?" wondered Jack.

"His small infection is still present. This area is where his skin is warmest," said Gibbs.

"I've heard you talk of infection," began Jack. "What is an infection?"

Gibbs drew a deep breath. "Infection is something that occurs when the body is unable to heal a wound. It is not pleasant to have. Fever is associated. There have been times infection has led to—"

"Jack," interrupted Will. "I'll be fine."

He and Gibbs shared a look.

Admitting it was wrong of him to nearly say "infection has led to death". With Jack as he is, that was the last thing he needed on his mind. Observing Jack's behavior in Will's current situation was terrible enough on the young man.

"Jack, I'm not going to die. I'll be fine," said Will. He brushed his fingers along the cord around Jack's neck. "I promise."

Jack nodded. His eyes briefly turned to Will's chest again. They never left the wound across Will's body until Will was buttoning his tunic. Even then he saw the mark through the cloth.

"This is a comb Jack," said Will.

"What?" asked Jack, blinking his eyes and seeing what was in front of his eyes rather than what was not.

"I need you to pull this through my hair," said Will as he handed the comb to Jack.

"I think I can do that," said Jack. He took a curl then pulled the teeth through the hair. "Like that?"

"Perfectly," replied Will.

After a while of Jack and Will fussing over the tangles, which eventually led to the two of them wrestling on the floor, much to Will's delight, the two sat in another room in the fortress.

Jack sat relaxed beneath the bubbles and clean water. Only his head was above the water. He breathed deeply and shut his eyes. More calm than he had ever been since waking and for quite some time as another part of him was telling him, he nearly fell asleep.

"Are you awake Jack?" Will's voice called.

"Mm hm," replied Jack, slowly sinking into the water more.

"I was simply wondering," said Will.

"So this is what a bath is like," said Jack with a heavy sigh. "This is something I can do everyday."

"Sit up Jack, I need to clean you hair," Will told him.

"With what?" wondered Jack, slowly pushing himself up.

Will gave him two bottles.

Taking one, Jack uncorked it. Immediately, the scent of coconut filled the room. He took the other one to bring that scent alive. Lime mixed with the coconut. Jack's eyes fell shut.

"This is familiar," he told Will. "I feel like I've taken a bath in this exact room, exactly how it is with this smell around me."

"I am quite positive you have," said Will. "This is what you have always put in your hair."

"Oh," whispered Jack. He corked the bottles then set them beside Will.

Will poured the oils on Jack's head before massaging it into his scalp and through the dreads as Jack played with the bubbles.

"Will, do you know what this is?" asked Jack.

Looking over Jack's shoulder, Will spotted the pirate pointing at his tattoo. "That is something called a tattoo. This is a sparrow, this is the sea, and this is the sun. This is what your name means. You are free to sail the seas."

"What about this?" wondered Jack, pointing to a mark above his tattoo.

A cold shiver ran through Wills body as he slumped. He gazed at the vibrant white mark against the bronze skin. "Jack, this is the mark of a pirate," was all he said.

"And this?" asked Jack, turning his arm over to show a "y" formed scar that ran the length of his forearm.

"I know it is a scar, but I don't know how you got it," said Will.

"Do you have scars?" asked Jack.

"Remind me and I'll show you another day," Will told him.

Eventually, the two returned to Jack's room where Jack sat on his bed with linen on his body. He was drying each single dreadlock one at a time.

Jack was unaware he was in the room. Will quietly remained standing behind him. His mind fled at the many thoughts. Jack's back scarred similar to his. Rather than five marks, endless lines and pale skin consumed the back. The back of Jack's shoulder was tattooed with a compass rose and the cardinal directions north and east. The compass was ornately done and symmetrical. A terrible scar across Jack's left side never healed properly.

Feeling someone watching him, Will raised his eyes.

"What?" asked Jack as he continued to dry his hair. Will shook his head. "If you're looking at my scars I don't know where I got them so I can't explain to you. I have more here if you want to look."

Half of him embracing the offer and the other half fighting to stay away, Will remained standing behind Jack. His curiosity taking the best of him, he walked in front of Jack Sparrow to observe the man's chest.

Two scars on the left side resembled bullet holes, both colored his skin black. The scar formed on his back continued around his side and ended on his belly. A massive diagonal line traveled the length of his belly. Another scar crossed his right breast. Some light in the darkness caused Will's mind to flee. Beside his heart on his left breast a tattoo stood out before every scar. _Lily-Rose_.

"Lily Rose," he whispered to himself.

"Is that what this is?" wondered Jack, following Will's eyes to the tattoo.

"Aye," said Will.

Shrugging it off, Jack folded the towel. He stood and set the towel on the bed. With a heavy sigh, he walked to the balcony. He leaned on the doorframe, simply staring out into the middle of the Cove.

Again, Will's eyes gazed the contour of Jack's body. Although the pirate was well toned and muscular, his spine was quite visible from where Will was standing. The top of his breeches hugged his hip bones too perfectly. When Jack turned to walk to another area in his room, Will saw the end of Jack's ribcage.

Since the day he met Captain Jack Sparrow, Will thought of him as a strong man who was seemingly perfect. Witnessing the skin and bones keeping Jack together and the scars coloring his body, he realized Jack's condition was nothing like he thought.

"Are you hungry?" he found himself suddenly asking.

Jack shook his head. "I was wondering something Will," he began instead before slipping his body through a tunic. "What is in London?"

"The rest of my family Jack," replied Will. "Joshamee wants to get us help. You and I aren't the healthiest of beings. I have an infection on my chest and you have amnesia. My uncle is a physician. He'll know what to do with me and he can help you."

"What is it like there?" asked Jack.

Will's eyes gazed around the room as if recalling the streets of London. "London is big. You will never find more people in one place at once anywhere else. Every street is lined with buildings. Every culture in the world can be seen walking London. Society's classes are found on a single stretch. It's loud and crowded. There is no freedom in London. When I was living in London, I felt trapped. I don't want to go back, but I don't know what to do with you."

"Will, you aren't going back because of me are you?" wondered Jack.

"I ran away from home too long ago. London holds memories I've wanted to forget for years, yet London is where I belong," said Will.

"Why did you run away then?" asked Jack.

"My mother died and I knew my grandfather wanted to make me someone I did not want to be," replied Will.

"And what was that?" wondered Jack.

"Jack, ask me questions about your life and not mine," Will told him.

"You don't know anything about my life Will," reminded Jack.

Shutting his eyes at what he said, Will nodded. He watched Jack pull the tunic over his head then slip his arms through his robe. His mind thought as his eyes narrowed. "I'm going to tell you something I've told no one else."

Jack pointed at himself.

Will nodded. "I know what you are feeling and the world as your mind understands."

"How?" wondered Jack, slowly walking toward him to sit beside him on the bed.

"When I was eight years old, I was playing in the tree house at my home. I leaned over the rail. The wood broke and I fell," said Will. His eyes lowered as he clasped his hands over his knees and leaned forward. "My arm was broken and I woke with amnesia."

"What," whispered Jack. His eyes were wide with wonder and thought.

"I couldn't remember anything in my world. After a few days, I began to recall my life. For near of a month my memory was unstable. It took me two months to recall my eight years of life. In that time, I remember not knowing something as simple as what it was to read, to use a fork, to dress myself—I didn't know my own mother's name. I remember what it was like because it was a time in my life I will never forget. I sometimes wonder what would have happened had I not remembered who I am," said Will.

"Will I remember in two months?" wondered Jack softly.

"I hope so," replied Will. "But that was eight years worth of a life I struggled to remember. You have lived many more than eight. It may take much longer than a month, but you will remember who you are."

"Well, I know my name," announced Jack proudly. "Technically I know who I am then."

He sounded so proud that he knew his own name. Will had to smile at Jack's pride. Inside, he was nearly crying. Jack was proud to know his name, his name. It was simply a name, but he supposed a name was everything to a man with no memories.

Deep in the night, Will lay on his back in the bed. Outside no sound could be heard. No lights were lit to cause the usual glow upon the rocky cove. The world was still, as only one ship was left to leave on the morrow.

The silence provided opportune ambience for thought. All Will thought of was the month when he was eight. Unconsciously, his fingers twisted in and out of his parents' rings as they occasionally spun around a finger. He knew better than anyone what Jack was feeling and thinking. Perhaps that was the reason he was the least afraid of Jack Sparrow. The rest of the world shied away from Jack for fear of what he was like with no memory of himself. Perhaps he was simply determined to help a friend who helped him achieve his one wish.

His mind slowly turned to the wish of his. Long ago, he was a child longing for his father's arms. Now he was a grown man longing for a father to talk to. He wanted his father's love and wisdom to help him through this. One man alone was not going to return a lifetime of Jack Sparrow's memories to his mind.

Sleep far from his grasp, he pushed the blankets from him and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He held his head between his palms a moment, his fingers twined through the curls. There was nothing in the world he wanted to do less. This was the final task he wanted to do. Everything he tried since Jack awakening did nothing for the young man. Only one person knew Jack better than Jack knew himself.

Scouring the room, he collected loose sheets of paper, a pen, and ink. For a moment, he stared down at the paper, unsure where to begin. The beginning was always a good place to begin. Now the other question of how he was to explain the situation weighed upon his shoulders. He slumped more in the moonlight. Rolling his eyes, he dipped the pen in the ink and simply went out and said it.

_Father, I am all right and healing well. Although I wish I was writing to tell you that, I am not sadly. There is no simpler way to tell you. Jack Sparrow has amnesia. I am serious when I tell you this. He doesn't know who he is, me, Barbossa, Gibbs, or his crew, what a ship is, where he came from, he talks as normal as I do, and he was afraid to eat a sandwich. I don't know what to do and I know you knew him better than his own father. _

_Because of our situations, it has been decided we go home. I wish I could say Port Royal home, but, unfortunately, I'm going back to the place I ran away from. We have no other choice. Everything we need is in London: a place where no one will think to look for us, someone to take care of us, and everything that my uncle is. We—I need Alex now more than ever. He has the knowledge and skill to make it right. Anything you can tell me about Jack will be wonderful. I need help and everyone else has left bringing Jack Sparrow back to me. Jack trusts me more than any other. I can't do this alone. I need you. I _need_ my father. Write back as soon as you can. Please. For both of them, don't tell Jack's father. _

_I never told you that I love you and I do love you. I wish you were here to help me now, but that will come when you are finished with your task. I count down the days, knowing each day brings us a little closer together. Ironic isn't it? You and I come together while Jack loses everything. I never thought I would think this, but I have to admit it: I miss Jack._

_Waiting for your wisdom… your Little One._

"Not bad," Will muttered to himself as he folded the letter.

Recalling a time when he once thought this to be true, he now felt like a fool. A message in a bottle. How ridiculous could this world become? After seeing what he did, throwing a bottle into the ocean was one of the sanest thoughts.

"Tia Dalma, if you are the Sea Goddess, you know where the waters combine with the waters a world away. Bring this message to my father," he whispered to the sea.

"William," Gibbs's voice snapped.

Startled, Will whipped around with wide eyes. "Hello Josh," he greeted with a forced smile.

"And what are you doing awake yet?" wondered Gibbs.

"Settling unfinished business that has recently been settled," said Will. He pointed behind Gibbs. "I could use a few hours of sleep before tomorrow so I think I'll do that."

Without any words, Gibbs nodded. The words were expressed upon his stern, un-amused face.

This time, the moment he wrapped himself in the blankets, Will shut his eyes and sleep overcame him.

"Turner, get up. We're leaving."

Will bolted awake, swinging the blankets from his body. He leapt out of bed and struggled to clothe himself as quickly as possible. The hurry halted when his eyes came across Barbossa sitting in a chair, a hand over his nose.

"Again, ye have yer father's arm," said Barbossa.

"Apologies," said Will.

"Ye meant it fer something I did," Barbossa told him.

Returning to clothing himself, Will did not object to that comment. Although it was for the same reason over and over again, Barbossa deserved it.

"A bloody nose cannot compare to months at the bottom of the ocean," reminded Will.

"I know, I know," said Barbossa as he stood. "I'll leave you to wake Jackie."

"I'm already awake Hector," Jack's voice announced from the doorway.

Both turned their heads to indeed find Jack standing in the doorway clothed and patiently waiting.

"I've been awake since everyone else has," said Jack.

"Is everything prepared?" asked Will, slipping his feet into his boots.

"Aye. We may leave when ye so desire," said Barbossa.

"Then we leave after breakfast," Will told him.

"I am hungry," Jack admitted to him with a shrug.

"Just how long have you been awake?" wondered Will as he and Jack left the room.

"I don't know," said Jack. "I was awake all night I think. I couldn't sleep. My stomach hurt all night and I couldn't stop thinking what it will be like to be on a ship that is moving."

Will nodded. He rubbed the back of his neck as he turned his head to share a small look with Barbossa behind him.

Just as he thought, Barbossa's eyes narrowed in disappointment as he nodded to Will.

Jack Sparrow ran around the _Black Pearl_ as quickly as his legs allowed him to scurry in and out of people. There was too much to see at once for him to stand still. The sails were being set. Men were climbing up and down the rigging. They carried large objects below deck and returned empty handed to fetch more. Others looked at the sails and tied the lines in their proper knots. The monkey ran and climbed through everything. Barbossa was hollering orders from the helm. Gibbs walked on deck to keep things in order and occasionally holler at someone for not staying in line.

At all the excitement, Jack's heart could hardly keep up with him. He whipped around, his dreadlocks smacking him in the face a few times or someone else. Caught up in everything, he spun around to look behind him.

Unfortunately, Will's head suffered the swinging dreadlocks.

"I'm sorry Will!" cried Jack as he covered his mouth and breathing stopped.

Will hardly seemed worried about himself. His eyes were on the body in his arms. He sighed heavily to discover Elizabeth was perfectly fine.

Suddenly forgetting the world around him, Jack curiously looked at Elizabeth. Confusion corrupted his eyes that did not leave the young woman. His fingers gently brushed along her cheek. He pulled away.

"Jack?" wondered Will.

"Elizabeth," whispered Jack. Unlike the usual tone in his voice this was confident.

"You remember her?" asked Will.

"No," replied Jack. "But I know it's her. I know this is Elizabeth. I don't know how but I do."

Will opened his mouth. Deciding against it, he shut his mouth and walked for the cabin. There were a few memories he could think of as to why Jack remembered her. To his surprise yet not, Jack did not follow him.

Gently, Will let his Elizabeth fall upon the feathery cot. He slid his hand from the back of her head last of all. The light blanket was pulled above her body.

Eventually, he found himself staring into the face of his wife. He parted her hair with his fingers and brushed it back from her face. For a single moment, he rested his ear over her chest, listening to her beating heart. She was every bit as alive as him, yet so far away from life where he could not have her.

"Elizabeth, I'm taking you somewhere safe. You're coming with us. Don't ever think I would leave you behind. They wanted to and told me you were hopeless. I don't believe them. You will wake when we are in London. You will meet my family and I'll explain everything to you. Then, perhaps, you and I can have a real wedding just as you wanted. And after, I want a little boy to call my own," he whispered. "We'll call him James like we planned to when we were children. If it turns out to be a girl then she'll just be named Emma like we planned."

"Will," Jack's voice called before he decided to knock. "Hector told me to tell you if you didn't come and help him he will tie you to a cannon and you will spend the entire journey dragging across the bottom of the ocean."

"Once again, life takes me away from you," noted Will. He kissed her lips gently. "There'll be a day when you can follow where my life takes me. I promise."

He sighed as he stood to walk away from her.

"Will come on. Hector said we aren't leaving until you are up there," pleaded Jack once he poked his head through the door. "She'll be awake in a few hours."

"I hope so," said Will.

Once he was close enough, Jack grabbed his arms and pushed him on deck to the helm. "Okay Hector let's go. I want to leave now. This is exciting. I've never been on a ship before so I want to see how this works." He noticed the looks Will and Barbossa exchanged. "I've been on a ship before haven't I?" The two nodded at him, their heads in synchronous motion. "This amnesia business is not amusing at all."

"It's not meant to be Jack," said Will.

"Turner, pay attention. I'm not the one teaching the lost sparrow now am I?" said Barbossa.

"Yes Hector," said Will, his tone anything but obliging.

Jack watched the impromptu lesson closely. This all seemed very familiar in his mind somewhere. His eyes wandered above him to the end of the cliffs surrounding them. He leaned his back on Will to keep his balance.

"Jack, look to the horizon," whispered Will.

"Horizon?" wondered Jack, bringing his head to Will.

Will motioned in front of him.

Jack softly gasped. He walked to the edge of the rail at the helm. Behind him, the sun cast rays of light into the western sky. The vastness of the blue coloring mesmerized him momentarily. A feeling suddenly came over him. He slowly turned his head.

From the corner of his eye, Will saw the sunrise reflect in Jack's brown orbs as the young man's orange face gazed into the picturesque scene.

Unable to move for fear he would wake, Jack did not find it appropriate to blink. He didn't want to miss such beauty. This was the world he lost. He wondered how he managed to forget something so beautiful.

The yellow sun was a mere speck on the horizon. Yellow and orange light cascaded from the orb reflecting both into the sky and the water. The waves caused the light to move in motion. Not a cloud in the sky prevented the light from reached them. The world was vast and huge. If this was what he had everyday since he was alive, he craved his memories, for a sight like this was something he never wanted to forget.

"Wait until sunset," a voice whispered behind him. "The world cannot be more beautiful."

"How could I ever have forgotten this?" Jack asked.

"We all forget the beauty in the world Jack. It is only a matter of time before we realize what there is in the world," said Will.

"Sunset," said Jack. He looked at Will with a smile that was unmistakably Jack Sparrow. "Can't wait."

"Come Jack, it's time we worked on your letters," said Will.

"I want to watch sunrise," Jack told him as his eyes turned back to the sky. "It feels more right than anything I've done to now."

Accepting his request, Will nodded. He returned to the wheel.

"Jack prefers the rising sun rather than the setting one. Setting sun has left him alone on too many ports, abandoned by his father. Sunset is the end of something. Sunrise has always meant a new day and a new past to write," said Barbossa.

Will looked at Jack who sat on the rail, one knee bent on the wood and the other leg hanging within the lines of the ship. His arm hung down his side while the other rested on his knee. In his heart, Jack Sparrow was as he should be.

**-)(-**

"_Finally!" cried Aidan as he threw his arms in the air. "I thought you'd never left Shipwreck Cove."_

"_There was a lot to explain," I told him._

"_Was it really that long William?" wondered Jack._

_I nodded. "It seemed longer."_

"_Does everything get bad now?" asked James, his little hands twiddling in his lap._

"_And who told you that?" I wondered._

"_Aidan told me bad things happened to you when you were at sea," replied James._

_I turned my eyes to my father who simply showed me his palms and looked away. He and I both knew the truth._

"_Well, James, everything did get bad," I admitted. "But everything always gets worse before it gets better."_

_James nodded. "Keep going. I want to know."_

_I let Jack continue to watch the sunrise. Clearly, it meant something to him and I wasn't going to take that away from him. When he was ready, he found me on deck making cards with letters on them. Today I decided to teach him letters. I knew if I didn't start to teach Jack something, he wouldn't remember. I didn't think it would hurt to watch Jack struggle to tell me the alphabet. I was so very wrong._

**-)(-**


	4. IV

Will held up another card. "And this is what Jack?"

"An 'O'," said Jack, confident.

"No, Jack, this is a 'Q'," said Will.

Jack grabbed the card and squinted as he held it up to the light. "It looks like an 'O'. Why isn't it an 'O'. It has to be an 'O'."

"Does the 'O' have a line right here Jack?" wondered Will, pointing to the line distinguishing a 'Q' from an 'O'.

A pout formed onto Jack's face as he let the card fall to deck. He folded his arms and looked away from Will. At the moment, he was anything but happy. His eyes wandered around deck at the many faces looking at him in curiosity.

"Jack, what is this?" asked Will.

"I won't know it," said Jack. "Remember Will, I don't know anything."

"If you didn't know anything then why do you know my name?" wondered Will.

His arms dropping and lower lip curling, Jack's eyes rolled as he turned to Will again. Entirely, everything inside of him lit up as he pointed at the card. "That is the letter on my wrist. That's a 'P'. 'P' for pirate is wot I always call it mate. And proud to have the mark on my wrist."

The cards fell from Will's hand as his fingers loosened. A smile widened across his face and his eyes grew wide with hope. Slightly, his mouth opened and formed into a small smile.

"Jack," he began.

"Yes," replied Jack just as slow.

"Do you have your memory back?" wondered Will softly.

Shaking his head, Jack looked at him oddly. "What makes you say that?"

"I never told you that letter. You knew it on your own. 'P' for pirate; it is something you never mentioned to any of us," Will told him.

Jack's face brightened as he grew pale. "Will, are my memories still in me? Is that why I remembered that?"

"Yes," replied Will quickly. "Captain Jack Sparrow is still in there. I told you once we began doing things you would begin to remember."

"I didn't think I would," said Jack, his eyes lowering in deep thought and wonder. "I didn't think it was possible for me to remember anything, but I did remember something." A smile tugged on his face. He rapidly motioned to Will. "Keep going, I might remember more."

Will smiled. Simply the idea of Jack remembering more lightened his heart and brought hope. Jack Sparrow was still there, he just proved it.

A review of the alphabet brought back more of Jack, for he remembered all the letters this time. Teaching Jack to write the letters, Will brought more pieces of scrap paper from inside the great cabin and instructed him to write these letters four more times, two of which were capital letters. In the end, five papers of each letter were stacked neatly in front of them.

Jack's arms suddenly flailed about in the air. He searched the pile for specific letters as he began spelling out a word and another word and another.

"Will what does this say? I don't know why I put these letters like this. I saw it in my head," Jack said.

"It reads 'up is down'," replied Will.

"What does that mean?" wondered Jack.

"I'm not sure," lied Will. "I promise I will tell you when I find out."

"You said you had books you were going to read about my life," reminded Jack. "When are you going to read those? Soon?"

"I may begin tonight," said Will.

"William, I think this is for you," said Pintel as he looked through a clear bottle with a paper inside.

Curiously, Will gently brought the bottle into his hands. "How do you know?"

"It has your name on the paper," said Jack, pointing to the inside of the bottle.

Will turned the bottle to indeed find his name written quite neatly on the rolled piece of paper. "Jack, while I read this, play with the letters."

"You will tell me if I've spelled a word right?" questioned Jack.

Nodding, Will smashed the neck of the bottle to reach for the note. His back leaned against the bow of the ship, facing Jack and the rest of the crew. A smile widened across his face when he realized whom this letter was from.

_Little one, thank God you are all right and healing well. Onto the other matter, I have but one thought. WHAT! Jack has what? How is _

"Great," Will muttered to himself as he slumped. "No ending to a thought."

"Hm?" wondered Jack, hearing a voice outside his head.

"My father didn't finish his thought," replied Will.

"Oh," said Jack, acting like he had some care, but truly didn't. Instead, he pushed Will's head down to his letters.

"That says Wicked Wench. I have no idea what that is," said Will.

"And this?" wondered Jack as he quickly arranged the letters into another word.

"Tortuga," whispered Will with a smile.

"Tortugo?" wondered Jack.

Will shook his head. "Tortug_a_."

"What is it?" asked Jack with a shrug.

"Tortuga is a port where pirates roam freely drinking, singing, fighting, wench hunting, and mutinying another man for the second time," replied Will, knowing the figure behind Jack without having to focus.

'Jack' scurried from Barbossa to sit neatly on Jack's right shoulder.

The pirate looked at the monkey with a small smile. He brought a finger across 'Jack's' head in a caressing movement a few times then returned to his letters.

"I shouldn't be the one at the helm Mr. Turner," said Barbossa.

Tiredly, Will nodded. He pushed himself to his feet and with assistance from the rail. For a moment, he stood still and pressed his hand against his chest. Discomfort passed across his face. He walked past Barbossa with his hand still pressed against his chest.

Barbossa's eyes moved as Will did.

"He did that a lot today," said Jack.

"Did what?" wondered Barbossa.

Jack raised his eyes and turned his head. "Rub his chest and look like that. Hector, is something wrong with him? I saw his chest before, but I think something else is wrong with him."

"Then Mr. Gibbs will just have to look him over tonight," said Barbossa. He made to turn away, but didn't.

Instead, he watched Jack play with letters and spell out words as a child would have done. His heart sank as Jack struggled to spell a single word.

"Jack, can I show you something?" he asked quietly.

Jack nodded.

Barbossa knelt. He arranged letters into a word.

Over and over Jack's eyes moved over the word until he looked at Barbossa quite disappointed. "What does it mean?"

"The word is friend Jack. Only time and experience explains the word," said Barbossa. He stood slowly. "But it is what I consider us."

Without another word, he walked away from Jack and to Will.

"Friend," whispered Jack as he looked at the word then Barbossa. Confusion passed across his face. "Friend?"

**-)(-**

"_Uncle Will, Barbossa was never friends with my daddy," said Niamh confidently._

_Jack and I shared a small look at each other. I then turned to Niamh. "I told you there were going to be secrets told from the very beginning."_

_Interrupting me, Jack continued. "It turns out Barbossa and I became good friends after I got my memory back. He was accustomed to me being only one way. When I lost his memory, he realized just why he always hung around me and the Pearl. Although he admitted it to me once, Hector Barbossa was my friend, one of my closest friends. He still is today."_

"_How? I thought you two didn't like each other at all," noted Niamh._

"_How about you let Uncle Will continue the story so he can get to the part where it is explained?" suggested Jack._

_Niamh nodded. She looked at me. "You can go on."_

_My grasp tightened around James's little body, knowing everythign was going to become worse soon enough._

_As you would expect, Jack recalled several words and phrases throughout that day. Some I knew and others I didn't know where he got it from. And sometimes, I simply didn't know how to explian it to him. By the end of the day, he sat at the bow watching sunset like he watched sunrise while I was told something very, very bad._

**-)(-**

Gibbs helped Will slip his arms back through his tunic after the usual evening of stitching and bandaging.

Will breathed sharply. He cried out softly through his teeth. His brown eyes squeezed shut as he sat his back against the pillow. "Josh, don't look at me like that. I've done everything you've told me to. I don't know how it's worsened. I know the infection worsened today. I know."

"When were you going to tell me William?" wondered Gibbs.

"There was no need. I knew Jack would tell someone," said Will.

"And it wasn't me. He told Barbossa Will," said Gibbs.

"This world has changed too much," whispered Will.

"Jack is beginning to trust Barbossa as much as you," agreed Gibbs.

"What do you recommend Josh?" wondered Will.

"I don't want you on deck until that infection has lowered," Gibbs told him. "A light fever has begun. The heat of the sun and conditions at sea are the last thing you need right now Will."

"We have over a month to London," reminded Will. "Why do I have the feeling I'm going to be dead by the time I get there?"

Never before had Gibbs grabbed Will's arm in such a grasp as he did. "Don't you ever think that William Turner. You will make it to London. I need you, Jack needs you, Elizabeth needs you…we need you Will."

"Why?" wondered Will.

"Because you have done so much for us. You helped win this war Will. You are one of us now," said Gibbs.

"I helped you win this war?" wondered Will. "No I didn't. You need me because Jack trusts me. I'm the only one you think who can bring Jack back."

"No, you need to stay alive because too many people will die if you do. I don't mean just people on this ship either," said Gibbs.

"If this does worsen what do you intend to do to keep me alive?" asked Will.

Gibbs shrugged and honest shrug. "I don't know, but I will find some way of keeping you alive. For now, read those journals of Edward's I know you have. The sooner you learn of Jack's past the sooner you can understand him and bring him back. I know you want him back as much as we do."

"I want him back more than any of you," whispered Will.

"Just rest Will. Jack will come in when he's tired," siad Gibbs.

Will nodded as he gently swung his legs off of the bed. He walked to the edge of the room where the chest beside the cabinet rested. Drawing a deep breath, he opened the chest where the six green books lay in there neat stack. For a reason he didn't want to read these, for he knew Jack's past was not the greatest. Perhaps they left it to him to read the books and bring Jack back because he was the most mentally strong of them all. Or it could just be the Turner stubborness he continued to hear about.

He sat on the bed with his back against a pillow, five books on the table beside him and one book in his hand. He opened to the first page where he had read so many times before and began.

"Will, William…Will, are you listening to me?"

As the book tilted down, Will's face followed. He noticed the long, slender fingers that were on the page and raised his head.

"Jack," he noted. "How long have you been here?"

Jack flung his arms in the air. "Now you decide to notice me."

"How long?" wondered Will, his face twisting into guilt.

"About a half an hour. I was trying to tell you about my day but you wouldn't listen to me," said Jack.

"I'm sorry, I was reading," said Will, turning his face back into the book.

"That's exactly what I'm trying to tell you. Will, I remember how to read!" cried Jack.

Hearing that, Will's head shot up. "You remember exactly how to read?" Jack nodded. "If I was to set a book in your hand you would know what it said?"

Jack nodded. "Barbossa did that already."

Will flipped to the beginning page of the book. He flipped the book around. "Read it."

"Jonathan Galvyn Thomas Teague, I write this for you. Although I am a young man newly made father on this day of October 27, I will one day no longer be with you. I write this journal and expect many more to follow so you will always know who your father is and how much I love you. Everyday, or as often as I can, I will write my thoughts of you. And one day, when I am no longer with you or should you be lost from the world, this journal will be here to give you my company and memories we've had together," said Jack.

He looked at Will with narrow eyes then took the book in his hand again. He read the words over and over again. Somewhere inside of him this seemed so very familiar. "Will," he began softly.

"Yes Jack," said Will.

"What are you reading?" wondered Jack.

"This is one of six journals a father wrote to his son long ago," replied Will.

"Where did you find this?" wondered Jack.

"In Shipwreck Cove. I knew this journey would be long and I thought it best that I have something to read along the way," said Will.

"Jonathan Galvyn Thomas Teague," whispered Jack. "I've heard of that name." His fingers brushed along the handwritten words. "My little white Jack Sparrow."

Tears suddenly formed in Jack's eyes and fell on the page. He shut the book and held it close to him, close to his heart. He bit is lip and softly wept.

Will leaned forward. A single touch on Jack's shoulder caused the young man to move into Will's body. He opened his mouth then decided it best if Jack speak first. Quite simply, he held Jack gently in his arms.

"It's what my mother called me," Jack whispered at last. "I can hear her voice in my head, but I can't remember what she looked like. I feel like I lost her appearance long before I lost my memory." He pushed away from his friend. "Will, are you reading the journals about me?"

Will nodded slowly.

"Who wrote them?" wondered Jack.

"Your father," replied Will. "Do you want me to read them before you?"

Jack shook his head. He noticed the other five sitting on the table beside Will. All six were brought into his arms. He set them in his hammock then crawled beneath the blanket with five at his feet and the one in his arms. His back faced Will.

"Jack," whispered Will.

"They're mine Will. You shouldn't be reading them," Jack snapped.

Understanding, Will nodded his head. He left it as that, for Jack was correct. Instead, he read through the medical book for reasons involving Jack and his own. Paging through the book became reading the symptoms and medicines to assist recovery. While Jack read through the journals with the occasional explanation of a word, he sat on the cot reading through the book. Both were eventually given a warm drink by Barbossa who also wanted to know if the two of them were fine.

"Ah ha!" cried Will happily as he laid the book out in front of him.

In the corner, Jack flinched and turned his head. "Wot?"

"I found something I've been looking for," said Will as he walked to the chest where Teague's apothecary was stored.

"What's in there?" wondered Jack. Now intrigued, he set the book flat on the two pages he was reading to walk to Will and stand over the chest.

Will pulled out several bottles searching for the ones needed, careful not to let Jack read some of them.

Curiosity taking the better of him, Jack pulled out a small bottle. He twisted the lid from the jar and took a whiff. That resulted in a most disgusting expression twisting on his face and immediately capping the jar. He looked at Will.

A simple amused smile spread across Will's face. He collected the proper jars, added the correct amounts to a bowl of boiling water heated by a candle, brought the bowl to the table beside the cot to cool and thicken, removed his tunic, and began undoing the bandages around his torso.

"Jack, I need you to help me do something," he said.

Nodding, Jack approached. "Do I know how to help you?"

"I'll show you. It is not difficult at all. Once you are shown you will either remember or know how," said Will.

"You want me to put that on your chest and side don't you?" asked Jack quietly.

Will nodded. "And removed the stitches then replace them then bandage me again. Can you do that?"

"I've watched Josh stitch you before so I think it won't be quite too difficult," said Jack.

"And I'll show you to the best of my ability," said Will.

Breathing deeply, he shut his eyes, not allowing his mind to accept what was beginning to form on his chest.

"These yes?" Jack's voice asked.

Will opened his eyes. He looked at the tweezers in Jack's hand and nodded. "And the small knife."

Jack raised his other hand. "I know." He sat beside Will on the cot and lit another lantern to set on the small table. "I'm not going to hurt you am I?"

"You can't hurt me more than I already am Jack. What you _can_ do is help me live," said Will.

"What do you mean by that?" wondered Jack.

Will shook his head, silently telling Jack to let it go. With the bandages removed, he lay flat on the cot, one hand behind his head on the pillow and the other free to help Jack if needed. He avoided the expression on Jack's face.

"Does it hurt badly?" wondered Jack.

"Not badly, but it does hurt," admitted Will. He lifted his head to point at the stitching done to his side. "What you need to do is carefully cut the first stitch. I'm going to help you through this one item at a time."

"If I hurt you or do something wrong you better tell me," Jack told him, his voice concerned and demanding. He looked at Will's side while rolling his sleeves to his elbows, as they were distracting him.

The dark stitches on Will's belly were quite clear against his pink skin around the wound. Concentrating on this first stitch, he brought the knife down on the thread, barely running the blade along the black stitch.

"I got it and I didn't hurt you," he told Will.

"Good," said Will. "Take the tweezers and gently pull the rest of the stitches from my skin beginning with the small piece not attached to the long thread. After the removal of a few stitches, cut the thread so you don't have to pull quite an amount through my skin."

Jack nodded. Calmly, he took the tweezers in his right hand and set his left on Will's skin to gently pull, as it would be easier to begin removing the stitching.

Curiously, Will watched Jack work. The expression upon Jack's face was concentration, and his tongue was biting his lower lip. Not once did his eyes leave the black thread in Will's body. He knew where he set the knife on the cot. Every third stitch, he cut the thread to make working simpler. Clearly, Jack's calm, concentration nature should have given him relief, for it was nothing like the pain he was expecting. Instead, Jack made his heart race. The pirate did this many, many times in life. That was the only explanation. How else would Jack have the hands to work as well as he was without being told or have the conscious memory of knowing? Everything seemed to be instinct.

"Jack," Will began softly.

"Mm hm," replied Jack.

"You do realize you are doing this as well as Josh?" said Will.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" wondered Jack.

"You know how to do this without being shown or told," said Will. Jack nodded as if telling him to continue. "You have done this several times in your life that it has become instinct."

"I don't want you to explain that do I?" wondered Jack, finally looking up at him.

Will shook his head sadly. "No, you don't."

"Should I remove the ones on your chest first or put whatever it is you made on the wound?" asked Jack.

"Slowly pour the liquid on my side and try to pour some of it in the wound. There is boiling water above the table. Take a cloth from the water and set it over my side after you have put the liquid on the wound. Do you understand?"

Already, Jack had the bowl over Will's side. He nodded to simply express to Will he knew what he was doing.

Although the liquid had a small amount of minutes to cool, it still burned terribly. The mixtures of different medicinal herbs and plants along with the heat nearly immediately turned his skin red upon contact. Hiding the pain, Will clutched the pillow behind his head and discreetly grabbed the blanket with the other hand. He breathed deeply and shut his eyes.

"It hurts badly now doesn't it?" wondered Jack. "I can see it on your face Will. I'm hurting you."

"No, Jack, you are helping me," said Will.

Jack shook his head as he sat back. Changing his mind, he stood and walked towards the door.

"Where are you going?" wondered Will.

"I'm telling Josh about you," said Jack.

"He's going to do the same thing you are. Most often, to recover one must have pain. Pain is healing Jack," Will told him.

Jack whipped around. He bounded back to Will and spoke in a voice that was frustrated and, more than anything, afraid. "I may have amnesia Will and I know you believe I don't know anything because I have amnesia. I know more than you think I do." He pointed at Will's side. "I know your skin should not be dark pink around the cut, nor should there be lines folding across each other beginning to form, not to mention, which I am going to, you have a fever. I don't know what it means but I know it is bad; you have an infection Will. I need to tell someone who will know what to do."

"Jack, he's going to do the same thing I'm having you do," Will told him again.

"Why are you making me do this?" wondered Jack, his tone pleading for an answer.

"Because I trust you more," said Will, lying straight through his teeth. "And this is a good skill to know."

"You're not lying are you?" wondered Jack.

"I would not lie to you Jack, not with you like this," said Will, his fingers slowly crossing behind the pillow. "Now, please, set the boiling rag across my side before the liquid dries on top of the wound rather than inside."

Seeing his friend's eyes true to his words, Jack did set the rag on Will's side. He slowly pulled the stitches from Will's chest more careful than he did with the side.

It took near of an hour for Will to sit up with his tunic opened and torso bandaged. He had to admit, despite the pain of the medicine and the small infection, he felt better than he had in recent days.

"Will, do you know who did this to you?" wondered Jack softly.

"No," replied Will, his eyes low. "I don't."

"Do you know why I lost my memory?" wondered Jack.

"Your head made contact with something hard. The impact was taken in such a way that you lost everything," said Will.

"Do you know what did hit my head?" asked Jack.

Will shook his head. "I think I was already dying when that happened."

"Will, go to sleep," Jack told him. "I'm not tired. I think I'll lie on the deck of the ship and look at the stars so I won't bother you. You look tired and not like yourself. I think sleeping will be good for you right now."

A smile crept onto Will's face. He couldn't hide it. Jack was quite a caring soul. And because Jack was his friend who he did promise to help in any form, Will did lie on the cot and eventually drift into an uneasy sleep.

Jack, just as he said, blew out the candles, halfway shut the door on his way out of the room, and walked on deck. The monkey scurried across deck. He knelt to let the monkey climb on his shoulder where he remained proudly perched. Needing to talk to someone, he was pleased to see Barbossa at the helm.

The older pirate greeted him. "How's it been young Jack?"

"Has Will always been like this?" asked Jack.

"Stubborn, stupid, selfless, noble, determined, honest, unpredictable…did I mention stubborn," said Barbossa. He nodded his head. "Aye, the lad has always been like that. Why do ye ask?"

"Can you answer another question for me?" wondered Jack.

"I can try," replied Barbossa.

"What is an infection?" asked Jack.

"Why ask?" wondered Barbossa. He turned to Jack and gently pressed the back of his finger's on the young man's cheek. "Are ye feeling well?"

"I'm fine, I was just curious," said Jack.

"An infection is not pretty lad. Should some fool have an infection he may as well kill himself rather than die from the delirium and fever caused by the infection or live without a limb for the rest of his pathetic life," replied Barbossa. "I've had a few in my times as have ye lad. There are medicines in this world that prevent infection or lessen it."

"Would one of these be in a book that was used to find things in jars that Will brought in a chest?" wondered Jack.

"Without doubt, in that book Jack. That is yer father's medical book. Yer father had a bit of a passion for the medical knowledge," said Barbossa.

"Is it possible to end an infection once it's started?" Jack asked.

"Tricky but possible," replied Barbossa. Only his eyes turned to Jack. "Why are ye asking me lad?"

"Because Will has an infection on his side and chest," Jack suddenly said.

Barbossa's hands fell from the wheel as he whipped wholly around to face Jack. "Are ye sure lad?"

Jack's head nodded rapidly. "He made me remove the bad stitches, pour a boiling liquid on his cuts and I stitched him and bandaged him again and now he's sleeping because I told him to."

"What did his wounds look like?" wondered Barbossa.

"The skin looked red, but that may have been just the stitches pulling on him as he moves," replied Jack.

"We'll take a look at him in the morning then," said Barbossa. "He's not stupid enough to allow an infection to completely take over him. Turners are stubborn and smart. Probably by morning he'll be better lad. If ye did all that ye told me he made ye do, he stopped it quick enough and he'll be fine. Young Turner only needs to rest."

"Are you sure?" wondered Jack. "I don't want him to die."

"Jack Sparrow, always know it is near impossible to kill a Turner. He is too stubborn to die," said Barbossa.

Not quite understanding the meaning of that, Jack nodded slowly. Feeling like a fool, he walked away from the helm and did lie out under the stars.

Well to the front of his thoughts, Barbossa also looked upon the stars. If anything happened to Will Turner, his life was the cost. His eyes turned to Jack who nestled himself on the bowsprit and stared toward the starfilled night. He knew if anything happened to him it meant an eternity in the Locker. Unfortunately, something had already happened to both of them. If there was a higher power looking down on the world as he looked toward the vastness of space, he asked for a bit of assistance before two fathers discovered the conditions of their sons.

Among the superstitions in the world, a blood red sun rising from the sea was enough to ward off several pirates from deck as well as a few who came from Edward Teague.

Barbossa looked at them with disgust and shame. "Are ye really more frightened of a bloody sun than what ye've just seen?"

"It was raining when we were in the battle and rain is a bad sign," noted Ragetti.

"And look what happened to the three of them," added Pintel.

Barbossa rolled his eyes again. Clearly, it was not worth wasting time away trying to argue with them. He was too old for that nonsense and knew their logic would only simply destroy his own.

Although, he did notice something odd as morning continued. Neither Jack nor Will was seen. It was uncommon to not see one of them before noon, Will especially. He never was the one to sleep near noon. Usually he was fetching breakfast or seeing to it that the course was holding steady and everyone was doing all that he was meant to.

But this morning, neither of them were spotted.

Casually and slowly, Barbossa walked to one Joshamee Gibbs sitting on a barrel knifing an apple to eat.

"Have me eyes been the only ones that haven't seen our favorite Turner who usually snoops around deck in the morning?" he asked.

"Nope," replied Gibbs.

"Thought not," noted Barbossa.

"Odd to you I assume?" wondered Gibbs.

"It's just not like him to not demand and try to control us," said Barbossa.

The two looked at each other. Their eyes shared one thing in common.

"I'll take a peek at them," said Gibbs slowly as he moved just as slow toward the great cabin.

He quietly pushed the door open. Silence and organization. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. All appeared well.

"Jack, Will, are you two all right?" he called not loudly, but loud enough or once to hear if he was not sleeping.

Jack's head popped out of the door to the quarters. He smiled as he walked into the cabin to meet Gibbs. "All right yes. I'm fine."

"Is Will with you?" wondered Gibbs.

Jack nodded. "He's sleeping."

"It's not like him to sleep this late," noted Gibbs.

"My fault," admitted Jack softly. "I woke him in the middle of last night so he could answer my question. It took a long time to explain and he was still tired so he decided to sleep more and he's been sleeping for a little while but he's fine."

"What was your question?" wondered Gibbs.

"I wanted to know more about his life," replied Jack.

With a nod of quite an amount of uncertainly, Gibbs nodded. He slowly made for the door until Jack's hand slapped his from opening the wood.

"You can't!" cried Jack. "Don't wake Will. I already don't feel like I think I should from keeping him up all night."

"You may have no memory Jack," began Gibbs. "But a person acts as you are now when something is not as it should. I know Will's chest wasn't healing well last night. I'm going in there Jack Sparrow.'

Jack watched him slowly push the door open. His eyes squeezed shut as he waited. Nothing. Silence. Now curious, he stepped in the room.

Gibbs stood over a sleeping Will Turner simply looking at him.

Impressed, Jack stood beside Gibbs.

Will was on his back sleeping uneasily. His face pressed into the pillow. Movement under the blanket was caused by his arm slowly pulling across the cot.

"Well, he looks worse than I've seen him," noted Gibbs. He pressed his fingertips on Will's forehead. "And he's quite warm."

"It's the blanket," said Jack. He lowered the blanket to Will's waist.

Relieved to see no blood through the bandages, Gibbs breathed a small sigh. He nodded to himself then turned to Jack.

"When he wakes please tell me. His health is not quite as it should be."

Jack nodded with a smile on his face. He sat in a chair by the window, put his feet on the wooden stool in front of the window, and continued reading the book he took from the chair.

Shaking thoughts from his head, Gibbs quietly left them. As he shut the cabin door, he shook his head again.

"And?" came Barbossa's voice.

"Will is sleeping while Jack reads. Apparently Jack woke him last night and needed a question answered. He wanted to know more about Will's life," replied Gibbs.

"And you believe him?" wondered Barbossa.

"No," replied Gibbs immediately, confidence in his voice. "But I'm not going to wake Will."

"Do you think that is best for the lad?" wondered Barbossa. "It's my head if anything happens to that boy."

"I'll look over him in a few hours if Jack doesn't tell me when he wakes," said Gibbs.

Barbossa rolled his eyes, as that wasn't the effect he desired. Instead, he trudged a return to the helm.

Gibbs followed with a question on his mind.

"Why would it be your head on Will's account?"

"I may not have been the greatest of acquaintances Bill Turner knew in his life, bit I know he would have me look after his child for him until the whelp sets off on his own foot in the world," replied Barbossa. He added a few more words. "And Edward already has a place reserved for me in the Locker."

"And why would you be responsible for Jack?" wondered Gibbs.

"Because Edward and I have a long past when I was a young lad myself. We knew each other Joshamee, and we were a trio the three of us," said Barbossa, his eyes lowered. The older frame of his body turned to gaze at the horizon.

A heavy sigh slipped through is body. His mind turned the past into the present.

"Hector," began Gibbs quietly. "How do you know Richard Seastone?"

"I can't tell ye Josh," replied Barbossa. "We agreed on a pact to never tell another soul the other two are, or what we did. Our trio was destroyed by the death of a brother and great responsibilities it was time for us all to accept. We formed together by rebellion. Our destruction was caused by that very thing we rebelled against."

"Can I know what that was?" wondered Gibbs.

"Society," replied Barbossa simply.

Understanding that explanation as well as him, Gibbs nodded.

One understanding comment became an argument over the most unlikely issue the two of them would care about a month ago.

Hesitantly, Bailey approached Pintel and Ragetti as they sat quietly at the bow simply looking toward the helm. "They have never argued before have they?"

"I've never heard them yell like this," admitted Pintel.

"I didn't know Barbossa cared about Jack or Will," said Ragetti.

"Josh, damn, you need to do something," Barbossa told him.

"I told you, there is nothing I can do."

"You have the only medical mind on this ship."

I don't know anything about stopping an infection once it has begun."

"We can't let Will die."

"I know, I know, Bill is going to have your head."

"Josh, perhaps you haven't noticed, but I've come to think of Will as my own son. It's the least I can do for Richard. And Jack, well, he's been my little boy for a while. It's always been me to keep an eye on the sons of the trio. Will isn't going to last until London. He'll be dead tomorrow because of you."

"Me? Hector, he was the fool who couldn't come to me when he felt the infection growing."

"Fool? He was a fool for saving your arse then. It's because he fought the reason you aren't dead now."

"I'm sorry. There isn't anything I can do at sea."

"Then we'll go on land."

"Where? I don't know anything . I need someone who has learned the medical advancements. My medical career ended years ago. Unless a miracle act of the Lord comes upon Will, we can do nothing more than keep him comfortable."

"I'm not losing the only family I have left."

"You're going to have to accept it. I hate it just as much. Will is the best of us all. He doesn't belong here. He's too good and that's why he's going to die."

"Captain Barbossa!"

Both Barbossa and Gibbs turned their heads to look at Ragetti oddly.

"There's a ship waving us down," Ragetti told them calmly, his finger pointing to the horizon.

His lips pursed in anger, Barbossa stepped away from them. As he walked to the rail, he pulled his spyglass from his person.

Indeed, there was a ship approaching on the horizon. As if to amuse himself, he observed the man at the helm. The man was rather young. His face was round and bore quite a childlike appearance. The features were soft and gentle. Simply by his stance and composure, refinement and sophistication glowed around him. Now more curious than amused, Barbossa looked further into the details. His golden curls pulled tightly behind his head. The eyes looked familiar. They were rich, brown orbs that reminded him of someone.

Suddenly, quite unexpectedly in fact, Barbossa began laughing.

"Here is our miracle act of the Lord Mr. Gibbs," he announced gloriously.

Barbossa waved grandiosely back to the ship.

Within no time at all, the young captain climbed over the rail. "Hector Barbossa, give me one good reason why I shouldn't run you through where you stand."

"Joshamee Gibbs, may I present Alexander, the famous uncle of our Will Turner," said Barbossa.

The anger in Alexander's composure vanished. "How?"

"Will and Jack are in the captain's quarters," replied Barbossa.

A smile widened on Alexander's face. He shouted in joy to the sky. "I knew it. When I heard rumors of a war, I knew I would find my little nephew here. On the _Black Pearl_ like his father was. Will ended up a pirate in the end."

"The blood of a pirate runs heavily in your family Alexander," reminded Barbossa.

Alexander nodded. "So, my nephew?"

"You know him and Will apparently has become your son," Gibbs told Barbossa and immediately walked away.

"Alex, I apologize in advance and I'll explain later," began Barbossa.

Alexander slumped as he shut his eyes. "Is he mostly alive?"

"I don't know," admitted Barbossa.

Immediately, Alexander wove his way through anything blocking a clear path to his nephew.

Hearing the door slam open, Jack, and everything pulsing through his body, suddenly stilled. Hot water dripped onto Will's chest since the rag and his hand stopped above his chest. His eyes were as wide as his mouth.

"Will," Alexander whispered frightened. He rushed to his unconscious nephew and softly called his name while caressing his burning forehead.

Will seemed to notice the foreign touch. He moved uneasily, his head moved into his uncle's hand. The fever and delirium consuming him, he breathed in struggled gasps.

Barbossa grabbed Jack's arms, keeping him in a tight hold. "Why didn't ye tell one of us?"

"Because," said Jack, a small fright on his face and in his voice.

"Why?" demanded Barbossa, shaking him.

A sudden change of mood consuming him, Jack pulled from Barbossa's grasp. "Because everyone else hurts him. You don't care about him. Every time Joshamee Gibbs goes near Will he hurts him. You make him do something or yell at him. I don't trust any of you with him. He's been the only one to help me and I wanted to do something for him. I read the book. I've been doing what it says; that's why he's not awake. I made something from the book so he wouldn't feel any more pain. I gave him something that is supposed to relieve fever and something else to heal an infection, but it's not working." His voice became worried rather than defensive. "I don't want him to die, but I don't know what else I can do more."

"I know what to do," said Alexander.

"Who are you?" wondered Jack.

"I'm his uncle. I know what to do," said Alexander.

Jack looked at this Alexander. He noticed one hand caressing Will's burning forehead and the other tightly holding one of Will's hands. Turning back to Alexander, he nodded. "I trust you."

"Barbossa, bring as many clean bandages as you can find, boil cloths in half the drinking water and the other half here, and boil sea water to replace the drinking water. Jack, stay here and keep an eye on Will. I'll return in a moment," said Alexander.

"What are you doing?" wondered Barbossa.

"Come with me and I'll tell you," said Alexander as he began leaving the room.

As he was told, Jack remained with Will. He wasn't going to leave him now. Someone else was going to help him, someone he had a feeling would save Will's life.

"I think I know your uncle," noted Jack. "I think I know Alexander. He seems familiar from somewhere. Well, everyone seemed familiar from somewhere, but not like Alex. I don't know. I don't know much, but I do know I trust him more than anyone else on this ship."

Alexander quickly returned with a bucket in both hands. "Jack, I need you to take these rags and cover Will's body in them."

"With what?" wondered Jack.

"The water," replied Alexander, setting the water bucket beside Jack. "I need to cool him."

Nodding, Jack began tossing the rags in to the bucket as Alexander cut Will's breeches to the middle of his thighs.

Alexander hustled around the room and through the chest with the jars. He hummed softly to himself as he mixed powders and liquids into several cups that were placed at the bedside table.

"When did you last give him the drink that caused him to sleep?" he asked curiously.

"This morning when he woke up," replied Jack.

"I need more than that Jack," said Alexander.

"About an hour after sunrise," added Jack.

"I thought so," muttered Alexander as he began to mix certain contents for that.

Will's breathing became heavier and more difficult.

Worried, Jack leaned over him. He squeezed the water from a rag on his forehead.

Surprisingly, Will twitched and moved uncomfortably. Right after the rag was pressed against his forehead, his eyes opened.

"No, Will, you can't be awake. I told you I wouldn't let you feel anything," said Jack, his eyes wide and voice distressed.

"And I'm not going to let him feel anything for the next few days," said Alexander.

Through delirium, Will's eyes narrowed in wonder. They turned to the right where Alexander was sitting.

"Hello little nephew," whispered Alexander while gently lifting Will's head to pour a liquid gently down his throat. "I am here Will, and I'm going to take care of you. I'll be here looking after you for a while. When you wake, I promise everything will be better."

Because of the taste that was now in his mouth, Will's face twisted into disgust for a moment until fever consumed him. He suddenly grabbed his uncle's hand and squeezed.

"I'm here Will, I'm here," whispered Alexander as he knelt to Will's face level. He began to gently caress his cheek with the back of his fingers. A smile came on his face. "You look so much like your father. It's exactly what she said. She always did say you would turn out just like your father."

"Alex," Will moaned in such pain.

"Go to sleep Will. You'll be fine when you're awake again," said Alexander.

Another cold rag being placed on his forehead, Will shut his eyes. He attempted to keep them open for as long as he could, but the pain eventually allowed him to give in.

Resuming humming, Alexander slowly set the cup on the floor and continued stirring the molasses like thickness of the liquid.

"How are you so calm?" wondered Jack.

"I've done this many times in my life," replied Alexander. He felt Will's chest. "Keep cooling him, I'll return soon."

Long after Alexander stepped out of the room, Jack continued nodding. He wiped the sweat from Will's chest and actually took a good look at it since he realized it was infected. The wound was red and the skin around it was a combination of pink and red. Dark lines were beginning to weave out of his chest. His side was similar to this as well, however not to the same extent. He also noticed Will's heart was beating quickly and pink circles surrounded his eyes. Although not knowing much, he knew no one should have been white and pink at the same time.

"Jack," Alexander's voice said as he walked in the room. "Keep the rags cold."

"Why?" wondered Jack, but did so.

"Because I need him as cool as I can before I have to do this," repeated Alexander.

"What do you have to do?" wondered Jack.

"I have to burn his chest and side," said Alexander quietly, the very thought already beginning to torture his mind.

"Okay," said Jack, not understanding what it meant.

He gently scrubbed Will's wounds with water that turned his hands red. One of the many contents of the cups poured across the infliction as well. Again, boiling water was used to clean the wound.

Slow feet came approaching. "Alex, now's yer time to prove yer worth to us."

"Thank you Hector," replied Alexander. He looked at Jack and gently set his hand on the pirate's shoulder. "Jack, I need you to not move from there. No matter what, don't move. You have to trust me. This is going to give Will a lot of pain, but it is the only thing that can be done to save his life."

"I trust you," said Jack.

Alexander reached from Barbossa to take a short metal bar in his hand. He set his hand across the edge of the metal and nodded.

Jack quietly watched as the metal pressed against Will's side. When the searing came to his ears, he tensed, but didn't move. Instead, he looked to Will's face, relieved to see no pain twisting on him. After a moment, his nose began wrinkling at the smell.

"Put a cold rag on that," Alexander told him.

"Is it supposed to look like that?" wondered Jack, feeing his stomach churn as he moved to set a cool rag on the blistered, red and pink skin.

"Quite," said Alexander.

Hearing and smelling the process again, Jack's stomach churned worse. It was all the more worse this time through.

"Look at that, he was cut down to the bone," noted Alexander to himself. "He's like his father in more ways than appearances." He muttered under his breath as he continued to work on Will.

Again, Jack looked at Will's face still to find no pain or change.

"Jack, keep the rags cold," Alexander told him.

Snapping out of it, Jack nodded. He soaked every rag on Will's body before realizing Alexander was through with what he was doing.

"Yep, he'll be fine in a few days," said Alexander.

"Are you sure?" wondered Jack.

"It next to impossible to kill a Turner," said Alexander. He poured the contents of another cup on the burns. "I hate this; it stings on burns but cools them well."

Jack nodded. He bit his lower lip and exhaled. Feeling dizzy, he shut his eyes and rubbed his head. A new feeling coming over him, his head tilted to the side. No thought or explanation was required, it was instinct to rush to the window and vomit into the sea.

"Leave the window open when you're through. There is a nice, cool sea breeze that will help cool him," said Alexander.

**-)(-**

"_Will," said Elizabeth, her voice not pleased and the tone that meant she wasn't quite pleased with something, but tried to be nice. "Can you please not give such detail next time?"_

_I looked at her then realized six pairs of eyes under the age of thirteen looking at me in horror and disgust. Guilt consumed everything that I was when I realized I forgot the children were still in there. I don't know how I managed it, but it did explain why I couldn't feel my arm very well, as James was clinging to me._

"_I'm sorry," I apologized, to Elizabeth mostly._

"_You didn't feel anything?" wondered Lily._

"_And I'm glad I didn't feel anything," I told her._

_Her eyes widened more. "How?"_

"_My wonderful uncle of course," I told her._

_Alexander smiled in the corner with such pride I knew granfather would smack him for later._

"_Will, son, please continue," Father said._

"_I know why you want me to continue," I told him._

"_Well obviously," Father said with a roll of his eyes. He made a rolling motion with his hand. "While I'm still free from the ship William."_

_I pulled the clinging arms of James from my arm and simply held him._

_Jack was sitting beside me again, looking down on me in horror or wonder. Horror for obvoius reasons and wonder because I didn't feel a thing._

_Alexander cleaned his mess and was the one to keep me as cool as my body would allow now, as Jack was a bit petrified to do anything but stare._

**-)(-**


	5. V

When Jack felt eyes looking at him, he turned his head from Will.

"He will live Jack," said Alexander. "You saved his life Jack. Had you not been giving him medicines and looking after him, the infection wouldn't have been light enough to heal. Once his fever breaks, I'll be more relived. I hate burning infections when the course of the infection has already caused the body to burn." His sad eyes turned to Will and a hand peeled the wet hair from his forehead. "I haven't seen him since he was fifteen and that was only a moment. We haven't been together for fourteen years. I have to save his life to simply be with him. I haven't been with him for an hour and I've given him more pain than he'll feel in his life."

"But you saved his life," reminded Jack.

"I… I know," said Alexander. "I just wish I didn't have to see him like this. I hate seeing my family in pain."

"He'll be fine," said Jack. "You said it yourself."

"You're right," Alexander said to himself. He nodded. "My nephew will be fine."

"WHERE IS HE?"

Both Alexander and Jack jumped from their chairs and felt their hearts skip a few beats.

Soon, thundering feet came crashing through the cabin and the door flung open. A man stood in the doorframe as horror appeared on his face while color left. Of course, being the father he was, Bill Turner rushed to his son's side.

"Will!" he helplessly cried, nearly jumping on the bed beside his son. He took his son's face in both of his palms. "Will, wake up. Will talk to me. Say something Will. Little one, please say something. Will!"

"He's not going to wake," Jack told him.

Horror struck Bill's eyes as they widened. He pressed his ear against Will's chest.

Alexander cried out and pulled his head back by pulling his hair. "Don't touch!"

"Who do you…" began Bill then looked at Alexander. His jaw dropped and eyes widened.

"You always act before you think Bill. It's been nineteen years and you haven't changed one bit," said Alexander as he brought clean, cool rags onto Will's chest. "I gave him medication to keep him unconscious while I burned his chest. He will be fine once the fever and burn cool. Don't worry about him. I'm here."

Not one word Alexander said was retained in Bill's mind. He continued staring at Alexander for the longest time. "Alex," he finally whispered.

"Hello big brother," said Alexander.

A smile widened across Bill's face as he wrapped his arms around his little brother's body.

Missing his arms around him when he was frightened or needed someone, Alexander smiled as he shut his eyes. This was exactly what he needed right now. Ever since Bill left nineteen years ago, he craved his older brother's protective arms around him, holding him tight.

"I missed you so much," he whispered so only his brother heard.

"I've missed all of you," said Bill. "But not as much as I've missed Will."

Taking that as an opportunity to let his arms from his brother, Alexander sat in the chair.

Bill sat beside Will's torso on the cot. He looked at Will. "There is so much death in him. I thought I was going to lose him ten minutes ago. I felt it a world away. It hurt."

"You can feel someone dying a world away?" wondered Alexander.

"Apparently," said Bill.

"How did you know it was Will then?" wondered Alexander.

"I don't know how to describe it. I was in pain, and was being called here. It is an indescribable feeling Alex. Somehow, I knew it was Will," said Bill.

"Alexander Seastone," said Edward Teague as he walked in the room slowly. "You look wonderful since I last saw you."

"Ten years is a long time Eddy," said Alexander.

"You have no idea," said Teague.

"I may be paranoid because he is my nephew," began Alexander. "Can you look over my work?"

Teague nodded. He turned to Will and saw someone sitting beside him. All else was lost but his son's eyes looking oddly back at him as if Jack had never seen him before.

"Jackie, you're all right," he said, relieved.

"Jackie?" snapped Jack. "You know me. I'm not all right. I'm anything but all right."

He stood up with such a force that caused his chair to move backward. Shaking his head, he walked from the room with a cold glare at Teague when he passed him.

Teague stood in the center of the room, heartbreak ironically on his face. "I thought something would have changed between us, but I suppose some things cannot change."

As he said he would, he took a look over Will.

"Well?" wondered Bill.

"Whoever cut him, cut him deep. Infection was inevitable. This wound is not going to heal painlessly, nor easily," said Teague. He touched Will's face. "But he will heal in time."

"How much time?" Bill asked with a voice to match his ghastly face.

"Weeks? A month? It depends how well the sea treats him," said Teague.

Bill's head bowed low to his chest as he exhaled deeply. Sad eyes looked upon his son as he took one of Will's hands between both of his.

"William, as Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_, I give you temporary leave of the ship. Take as long as you want knowing the time will be returned later," said Teague.

"Thank you Eddy," whispered Bill.

"I'm not going to let you lose your son too," said Teague before walking from the room.

Bill pressed his lips against his son's burning forehead. He let his forehead rest against Will's for several minutes before returning the cool rag on the skin. "I'm here Will. Daddy is going to be with you until you aren't in pain." He kissed his son's face again. "I promise."

"Where have you been all these years?" wondered Alexander softly. "You would have been such a father."

"You know where I've been Alex," said Bill. "And you know why I couldn't come back."

"I do know, but you should have been home with us," said Alexander. "Everything would have been fine fourteen years ago if you would have just come back with my sister."

"Alex," said Bill, the tone in his voice clearly reflecting what words were to follow. "I told you last time, there was nothing I could have done or no way of knowing until after it happened. Stop with the "what if's". All it does is destroy a man and cause him to lose his mind. Believe me, I know. You can hate me all you want and you deserve to hate me for killing your sister."

"Half killed her," said Alexander. "It takes two to make a child." He smiled to himself. "But she was happier in those nine months than she had been in the past six years. I would watch her die all over again to have her back for nine months."

Bill shook his head, not about to begin this with him. "How long have you been here?"

"An hour?" Alexander said with a shrug. "I didn't have much time to think before I was burning Will's chest to save his life. Lottie did say he would turn out like you in the end. She wasn't lying at all."

"And what is that supposed to mean Alex?" said Bill, lightly smacking Alexander's arm.

"Trouble always finds you in the most unfortunate of circumstances," answered Alexander.

A knock came upon the doorframe, as Jack appeared. "Can I?"

"Of course," said Alexander.

Nodding his appreciation, Jack walked forward. He continued to sit in his chair beside Will.

"How are you doing?" wondered Bill quietly.

"Wishing the world didn't know me," admitted Jack.

"I know how you feel," said Bill.

Jack laughed sarcastically as he shook his head. "No, you don't."

"I do," Bill told him. "I had amnesia when I was eight. I lost my memory too Jack. Like you, I wished I could hide from the world. I never remembered what happened before. My mother died before I was eight. I've never remembered her face. And I'm not going to let this happen to you too. I'm going to help you remember as much as I can while I'm here looking after my son."

"Oh, I thought you were Will's father," said Jack. "I told Will I remember your laughter and eyes."

"That's good to know," said Bill, not quite sure what to make of that.

"I'm missing something," said Alexander.

"You don't know?" asked Bill.

"Apparently not," said Alexander.

"I have amnesia," replied Jack causally. "I don't remember anything that Will hasn't taught me. I am proud to say I know how to read, but not write yet."

Immediately, Alexander scurried to Jack's side. He moved the dreadlocks out of his way to examine Jack's head. A few times when pressure was applied at specific places and the right amount, Jack flinched or cried out.

"Well, you definitely cracked your skull," noted Alexander. "Has your head bothered you terribly?"

"It never stops hurting. I always feel a pulsing right there, sometimes worse than before, but nothing I can't manage. Quite truthfully, I'm getting used to the pain," said Jack.

"That isn't good," Alexander told him softly.

"Bad?" wondered Jack.

"Yes, but I can't do anything on the ship. We have to wait until we reach London," said Alexander.

"Okay," replied Jack. He turned away then looked at Alexander. "You two are the only ones who haven't said anything odd about me."

"I am a physician Jack. Amnesia is simple to contend with," said Alexander.

"And I've had amnesia. I know what not to say and do," said Bill.

"Will treats me normally too. Everyone else avoids me," added Jack.

"They just don't know what to say," said Bill.

Jack nodded. "Do you know anything about me that Will doesn't?"

"I've been friends with you for many, many years Jack. We once thought of each other as brothers," said Bill.

"Finally!" Jack cried as he threw his hands in the air. "Someone who knows something about me."

Bill pulled up a chair from the cabin to sit beside his son, continued to dampen the rags across Will's body to keep him cool, and turned to Jack. "Jack Sparrow, any questions I can answer."

The smile lit on Jack's face. He scoot to the end of the chair and began asking anything and everything that was on his mind.

Hours past with Jack's questions and Bill's answering. Jack must have not understood the concept of Bill knowing nearly everything about him because his questions were upon Bill himself and Will.

Although Bill did not understand why Jack's questions focused on the people they were, he continued to answer them until Alexander smacked him in the arm.

With a smile on his face, Bill Turner watched as his son's eyes opened slowly.

Such an expression of pain and discomfort passed across Will's face. He moved uncomfortably as he squeezed his eyes shut again. His breathing stopped momentarily.

"You need to breathe Will," Alexander told him.

That voice returning his mind to his body, Will opened his eyes and gazed between his father and uncle several times over. "I'm still delirious," he told himself.

"No, little one, you're recovering slowly," said Bill, palming his son's face.

"I tend to agree with him William," said Alexander as he spooned powders into a cup of water.

Will noticed Jack was sitting beside the foot of the bed staring at him apologetically and guilt written on his face. "You did what you had to Jack."

"I should have told them," said Jack.

"Probably," agreed Will.

"Don't fight this Will. You need it," said Alexander, returning to his nephew with the drink in his hand.

Knowing exactly what that was, Will allowed himself to completely fall into the cot while groaning. He reached up to grab his uncle's hand, however Alexander pushed him down. "It's just a burn Alex. I was a blacksmith. I've burned myself before. I'll be fine."

"Little one," Bill's voice softly pleaded.

Will turned his head to his father who did look down on him pleadingly. "But I want to be with you."

"You are right now," said Bill.

"Fine," said Will. He said his words again expressing his thoughts. "I want to be with you awake."

"But I won't have you in pain William," Bill told him as he now held the cup in his hand. "You don't have to be strong to me Will. You're my son and I your father. You are meant to tell me your pain so I can be the one that heals it."

The fight worthless to win, Will's head slowly nodded. Although not willingly, Will swallowed the liquid that was poured into his mouth.

"You better be here," he told his father.

Bill grabbed both of his son's hands. "I will," he promised. "And you get better."

"I'm trying," whispered Will before he shut his eyes.

"This is all my fault," Jack Sparrow told them. "I should have told someone he was getting warmer. Will told me to tell Joshamee, but I didn't. I should have."

"Jack, he's alive because of you," Alexander reminded.

"He's in pain because of me," Jack added.

"Was it your sword that cut him?" wondered Alexander.

Color drained from Jack's face as he slumped. "It could have been me because I don't remember anything. You might be right. This could be my fault."

"Jack," said Bill quickly afterward. "It wasn't you. Someone part of the _Flying Dutchman_ hurt Will."

"The enemy?" wondered Jack. Bill nodded. "If I ever learn the name of the person that did this to him I'll kill him."

"You won't have to," said Bill.

"Are you going to kill him first?" wondered Jack happily.

"No Jack," said Bill. "It will be better for him to suffer through the rest of his life knowing what he did rather than give him mercy and kill him."

"You know the man that hurt Will?" asked Alexander.

"I do, and I won't tell you because he doesn't want anyone else to know for a reason he didn't share with me. I thought admitting it was he who hurt my son was an act noble enough to respect his request," said Bill.

"This is a confusing world," whined Jack.

"That it is," agreed Alexander.

On and on the three of them talked while looking after Will. Interestingly, Barbossa brought the three of them dinner and water for Will to both drink and cool his chest. They weren't sure whether he wanted to get on Bill's good side or continued to keep an eye on Jack and Will, but there was one way to answer that question.

"Hector," Bill called causally.

Barbossa turned his head as he was about to leave. "Aye."

"Jack tells me you've been looking after him and Will rather well. Can I ask why?" said Bill.

"Ye and I aren't the best of friends in the world and relations with Edward have fallen over the years. But, if I knew ye and Edward well enough like I thought I did once, I knew ye would have me look after these two," replied Barbossa.

"And?" wondered Bill.

"Because I know the two of ye love them enough to kill yerselves to save them if ye had to," said Barbossa. He looked at Bill then away. "And I've always felt it was an obligation of mine to keep an eye on the two of them."

Half of Bill's face tugged into a smile. "Thank you."

Impressed, Barbossa turned to him and pointed at him. "So yer not going to break me nose for everything?"

Bill shook his head. "Not yet. I'll find the opportune moment, but for now I believe you deserve a little gratitude for keeping an eye on the two of them."

"Thank ye mate," said Barbossa, relief filling his voice. "Can I get any of ye anything else?"

"More clean rags for my nephew's chest," replied Alexander.

Barbossa gave a bow of his head then backed out of the room.

As the rest of the Caribbean slept, Bill continued to hold his son's hand and caress his soft curls.

Will's temperature was near normal. He was sleeping more comfortably. Body and mind was as normal as he could be with a burn across his body.

Slowly and tiredly, Jack sat on a chair beside Will.

Curiously, Bill turned to him. "What are you doing here?"

"I can't sleep," said Jack quietly.

"You look tired," noted Bill.

"I am, but I can't sleep and since I couldn't sleep I thought I should stay here with Will," said Jack.

"Jack, I am here. I can look after Will just as fine," Bill told him.

"I don't want to be away from him," Jack whispered. "I'm worried about him."

"He's cool and comfortable. No need to worry."

"I feel sick," whimpered Jack as he leaned his upper body on the bed beside Will's shoulder.

Bill nodded, suddenly understanding Jack. He leaned over his son to turn Jack's head his way. "Before all this happened, you worried like this over the people you cared about most. You wouldn't leave his side. There was a time I caught a deadly fever and you wouldn't leave my side until you thought I was going to live. You wouldn't listen to any physician when told I was going to live. I would live when you decided I was going to live."

"I've always been like this then?" wondered Jack.

Bill nodded. "And I think you always will."

"Is that bad?" wondered Jack.

"No. Simply being worried is a sign of caring and compassion; something you have always had deep within yourself," said Bill.

"Am I a good man?" Jack suddenly asked.

"Yes," replied Bill without hesitation. "You are."

Apparently settled, Jack nodded. His sleepy eyes looked down on Will again. As gently as Bill, he pulled a few curls from Will's face, and then took Will's palm between his fingers. Surrendering to the night, he settled himself in the chair, seeming to curl his small frame within the chair arms.

Bill watched with a soft smile as Jack closed his eyes and peacefully fell asleep. He wrapped a light blanket over Jack's torso.

"If ever someone had to look after my Will, I always said I would want it to be you. Even though your mind is not Jack Sparrow, I still trust you to look after him, although I am glad Hector is here too because you aren't exactly thinking as straight as Jack did." He gently caressed Jack's cheek. "But I still love you Jack."

"Daddy."

Bill moved away from Jack to tend to his little one's soft call. "Little one."

Will halfway smiled. "You're still here."

"I'm not leaving you until I know you'll be fine without me," said Bill.

"Since I'm your son and unmistakably Turner, you're not gong to be leaving then," said Will.

"Aye," agreed Bill. "That is a true comment, but, since I know you because you are me, then I know Jack and Barbossa are quite capable of looking after you."

"Jack nearly killed me, said Will.

"Jack saved your life," Bill told him. "He may not have told anyone you were like that, but he cleaned your wounds and made medications to help your body fight the infection. He saved your life long enough for your uncle to lead you on the path of recovery. Jack didn't tell anyone because this Jack, and probably the real Jack, doesn't trust anyone part of this crew. Barbossa tells you what to do and Joshamee hurts you."

"Barbossa is teaching me and Gibbs was causing me pain because he was helping it all heal," said Will.

"In his mind it was wrong. You need to ask questions to Jack rather than answer his. If he makes a mistake or assumes wrong, things worse than this may happen," said Bill.

"I nearly died. How can anything be worse?" asked Will.

"You could be dead," said Bill, both eyebrows raised.

Will looked at him and shut his eyes. The expression on his face proved his father was correct. "Have you ever had this done to you?" he asked, pointing at his chest.

"More than once," said Bill, his eyes seeming to glance back into the past.

"When did the burning end?" wondered Will.

"A few days it hurt worse than the hour before. You are going into the most painful stage of the process to heal," said Bill.

"How long until the worst is over?" wondered Will.

"That depends on the nature of the burn and heat. Small pressure and heat, tomorrow. More pressure, longer application, and color near orange, unfortunately the worst has not yet come," replied Bill.

Will moaned and whimpered, losing all maturity of his age of twenty two. He, at the moment, was behaving as a two year old would.

Seeing this, Bill couldn't help the smile on his face. After all, this was his son who he dreamed of seeing. Any emotion and expression please him and brought joy to his soul. But knowing the manor of the burn and what Alexander did to destroy the infection and the expression on his little one's face caused that joy to have minimal time.

"I'll only be a moment little one," said Bill.

He waited for a response from his son, which was a small head nod before he left the room.

In the meantime, Will breathed deeply as he squeezed the blanket and a hand. Suddenly forgetting the pain, he turned his head realizing Jack's hand was around his. He halfway smiled having to admit Jack was looking after him better than them all. Thinking on the reason why he didn't tell anyone, Will admitted to himself Jack's logic was impressively correct, however, his means of carrying out the logic was not well thought through.

A sudden sharp pain jolted through his chest, enflaming the wound further. He sucked a breath through his teeth and tightened his fists further around what it was he was already holding onto.

Bill and Alexander's voices increased as they came closer to the room.

"William, I know he's not going to like this, but it's exactly what he needs at the moment. You of all people should know that."

"Aye, Alexander Seastone, I do know that. Not having the consciousness to acknowledge pain is the only solution I know."

"You had to do it for months."

"I know Alex, I remember my entire age of fifteen. How can I possibly forget that?"

"You managed to forget the first eight, nearly nine years of your life."

Will watched Bill smack Alexander across the back of the head rather roughly as the two of them entered the room.

"What does the mean by that?" Will asked.

"Remind me that question another time," said Bill.

"Okay," whispered Will as he deeply exhaled.

Color disappeared from his face wholly; pain replaced it.

In the corner, the sounds of opening jars, spoons against glass, pouring liquid, and objects being moved and placed elsewhere were the only sounds clear through Will's mind. The touch of his father's hand caressing his forehead soothed him.

"How many days?" he asked.

That depends on what your uncle and I believe," replied Bill.

"Will we ever have the time to be father and son?" asked Will softly.

Bill leaned over his son. "When I am through with my duty aboard the _Dutchman_ you and I will have the rest of our lives to be father and son. This is the price we must pay to be together."

"Me suffering and you a world away," noted Will. "That's a heavy price."

"Well, the price paid is worth it all. To have you again, it's worth ever moment away," said Bill.

"You aren't the one suffering more pain than you've ever felt in your life," said Will. "It hurts so much and I was blacksmith. I should be used to burns by now, but his hurts so badly."

"I have a suggestion Will," said Alexander. Stop talking and drink this."

Reluctantly, Will nodded.

Bill, of course, helped him drink the liquid. To Will's absolute comfort and delight, he sat where the pillow was and set the pillow and Will's head in his lap. His fingers played in the soft curls.

"I hope this is enough to last you a little longer away from me."

Will's right cheek fell into the pillow. He sighed deeply, comforted as he drifted asleep.

"There is no better medication to heal than a father's love and warmth," noted Alexander, drying his hands in the corner.

"Personal experience?" wondered Bill.

"Both comforting and being comforted," said Alexander.

"How is the little one?" wondered Bill.

"Ones. Little ones," corrected Alexander.

Bill raised an eyebrow. "More than one?"

"Felicity is ten and Thomas has become six. Unfortunately while I'm away, he'll become seven in eleven days," replied Alexander, guilt ridden within his voice.

"Well, you missed only one birthday, not nineteen," said Bill.

"You know it wasn't your fault," reminded Alexander.

Bill shook his head. "It doesn't matter Alex. I was there and I agreed. Jack and I were the ones who suggested it. We gave ourselves no other options. After we freed the slaves, he knew we would continued to pirate. We knew the consequences, although I would have preferred to be dead rather than what I went through for near of two decades. It's still not over."

"Soon," said Alexander.

"I wish. The worst is yet to come unfortunately. I want nothing more than a painless life with my son. I don't know how long that will be," said Bill. He turned to Alexander. "How well have you learned since I've left?"

"Learned?" wondered Alexander.

"What sort of a physician are you? Rather, how well do you stand in the medical world?" asked Bill.

Alexander shrugged. He had never thought of that before. "I do what I can and what I have to. I've been told I learn quick and find means of healing wounds promptly. Apparently, I exceed my age. I honestly don't know how well I am. I do what I must to keep my patients alive."

"Good," said Bill confidently, before he massaged Will's curls.

"Why are you asking me this?" wondered Alexander.

"How tired are you?" asked Bill.

"Awake," replied Alexander.

Bill gave a nod of his head. "How much do you know about the _Flying Dutchman_?" Alexander looked at him oddly and not amused. "Answer my question Alex."

Alexander rolled his eyes and answered anyway. "It's a cursed ship captained by none other than Davy Jones hims—"

"Ah ha!" cried Bill, startling Alexander. "What are you doing here in the Caribbean Alexander Seastone? Rather, does your father know you are here?"

"I was told to come here," replied Alexander.

"Does your father know?" Bill asked again, dryly.

Alexander slumped low, his famous expression of guilt coming to his eyes before his head bowed low against his chest.

"Apparently he doesn't know," muttered Bill under his breath.

"Will it comfort you to know this isn't the first time and that I always find myself returning home?" wondered Alexander, attempting to give him some hope.

"No, that simply means you run away often," said Bill.

"It's not that often," said Alexander.

"Once a year is often," Bill told him.

Alexander slumped low again. "After all these years you still know me."

"No, Alex, it's not that I know you, it is simply that I know what trouble you get yourself into because I'm the one who always seems to bail you out of that trouble," said Bill.

"Touché," admitted Alexander. He looked at Bill. "Now, as you were questioning my medical mind."

Bill's eyes gazed around the room then he suddenly nodded, remembering. "Where do you want me to begin?"

"First of all, why were you in such shock that I said Davy Jones captains her?" wondered Alexander.

"What news have you heard from the Caribbean in London?" asked Bill.

"The pirates were to make their final stand in the Caribbean waters and Cutler Beckett went to extinguish them with the Armada," replied Alexander.

"Well, the Armada turned and fled after the _Dutchman_ set fire to the _Endeavor_ with her new captain," replied Bill.

Alexander's eyes widened. "Someone replaced Jones?" Bill nodded. "Who?"

Bill's eyes lowered as his brother's widened more. He breathed heavily then suddenly had to allow his temptation of caressing his son's hairline. "Edward is the captain of the ship I'm currently part of."

"What?" whispered Alexander, leaning closer as if he heard wrong.

"Edward Teague is the captain of the ship I'm a part of," repeated Bill, clearly.

"The _Dutchman_?" asked Alexander.

Bill managed to nod his head a few times before fixing his eyes on his son. "He made himself captain to protect Jack. Jack had every intention to make himself Captain. Wholeheartedly, he saw himself as captain. Edward managed to read it behind his son's eyes and stopped him before Jack made a terrible mistake. Unfortunately, in the end, Edward still lost his son. Jack may be alive, but it is only his body that survived. Thankfully, however, Edward doesn't know Jack has amnesia. I've been hesitant to tell him of this. I'm hoping Jack will remember soon and therefore I'll have no need to tell him. Jack doesn't know what his father did for him."

"Edward is captain of the _Flying Dutchman_," noted Alexander, shock and regret in his voice. "And everything that belonged to him?"

"Mostly Jack's. He's given me the _Star_ and all her contents," said Bill.

"Why would he give you a ship if you are already part of one?" wondered Alexander.

"Aye, that is why I asked you of your medical knowledge," began Bill. He brushed Will's cheek with the back of his fingers. "When I am through helping Edward ferry the souls left behind by Jones, Calypso has promised me my freedom from the ship."

"Calypso?"

"Aye, the goddess Calypso."

"She's real too?"

"Aye, as real as Davy Jones once was."

"All right, what is the catch to your freedom?"

Bill pointed at him. "This is where you are needed. Being part of that ship means one is half alive and half dead. Being half alive, we are still injured. Being half dead, we cannot die. Freedom from that ship means becoming mortal again. Alex, what is associated with mortality?"

"Life, emotions, pain, allowing all with life to run its natural course, birth, death—"

"Not quite death," said Bill clearly. "The price of freedom and living is such a simple concept as healing the wounds that being half dead never allowed to heal. Once I am as mortal as you, the wounds will show themselves."

"How many?" wondered Alexander dryly.

"A lot happened in the two years I was not under cursed Aztec Gold."

"I need to know how you were injured if I am going to prepare to set you right again."

"Lashings against my back, beatings, I've not eaten or drank for fifteen years. While on that ship I fell into a state of depression that nothing brought me from it but Elizabeth talking about Will to me. We were under the waves on the ocean floor for weeks at a time, and simply what I've seen I know will haunt my dreams," said Bill.

Alexander's forehead was high as his eyes were narrow in thought. He looked at Bill incredulously. "And you expect me to do this alone."

"Actually, there may be more," added Bill after a moment of thought.

"Are you supposing this will come about at once?" wondered Alexander.

"Aye," replied Bill. "I'm not going to be feeling well for some time."

"I can't save your life alone," Alexander told him.

"Alex, is my brother alive?" asked Bill, curiously.

"Yes, he's alive and well," replied Alexander.

"Is he always in London?" wondered Bill.

"He stays at your home in Scotland with Dirk most of the year," began Alexander. "It is custom for him to come down during Parliament and celebrations. He has been known to come back when he simply wants to be with us."

"Will we be returning during Parliament?" asked Bill.

"No, but it will be in the middle of the summer celebrations. He may or may not be there," replied Alexander.

Sighing heavily, Bill slumped low. His eyes shut as his head bowed to his chest. "Well, that's not what I wanted to hear."

They were quiet a moment until Alexander spoke up. "You may not want to hear this too William. Your brother isn't on the best of terms with you."

"What did I do to him?" asked Bill. "We were fine before I left."

"You abandoned him more than you abandoned Will," said Alexander.

Bill let his head fall back behind him. "No I didn't. Does he not know the truth about me?"

"He does, but he still feels you abandoned him. If you would have asked he always tells me he would have followed," said Alexander.

"I did think of asking, but then I knew it was better if I didn't. Father let himself die to keep the two of us alive. I made a mistake. Knowing one of us would be alive was better than the two of us dying. I left him there because I knew he would be safe."

"Well, he's safe. He's completely turned away from the pirate he was and embraced nobility. Your brother attends Parliament more than I do. He has created a line of Turners in Parliament that Dirk may one day have to face as well."

"At least he did the right choice and found a new life."

"Parliament?" wondered Alexander.

Bill nodded. "I know, but he was smart and moved on." He looked at Alexander. "Does he hate me?"

"He wants to kill you. If he ever finds you, he swears to me he'll kill you. He doesn't talk highly of you. If someone mentions your name to him, he'll carry on about everything you've ever done and what you should have done."

"He just hates that I didn't take him with me. We did everything together and I've always looked after him. Not taking him was quite a shock I'm sure. He's angry because he doesn't have me and he's telling himself I abandoned him to make it easier for him not to want me back. I know my baby brother. Gabe would rather help you save my life than see me dead."

"Only if he is there when you decide to show up."

"And if he isn't then you're just going to have to have Will help you, because I'm not considering your father."

"He would do it," Alexander told him softly.

"Why would Richard help you save my life after telling me away?" wondered Bill.

"Because he realized what he did that next afternoon," replied Alexander. "He sent a few ships looking for you. Gabriel went in search of you. It was a year before we gave up on you. He knew he would never see you again unless you decided to come home. Even that was slim. He knows you well enough to know to do what someone tells you. He also knows you are a stubborn man and hoped that stubbornness would cause you to fight for you family again."

"And he was right," admitted Bill. "It took longer than I would have liked, but my stubbornness finally is leading me home. Slowly."

"You know he misses you. He admits to me he regrets telling you off and wonders what would have happened if he didn't. He blames my sister on himself," said Alexander softly.

"And he probably did kill his daughter," said Bill loudly and confidently. He immediately slumped. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I fear that is only the beginning of the words I'll say about him. Warn your father about me. There is a lot I want to say to him that isn't— well friendly."

"And expect the same from him," said Alexander with a sigh. "But I swear he will be glad to see you again."

"One less thing I have to worry about then," said Bill.

Alexander sighed. His eyes saddened. "You are his favorite you know. Ever since you began recovering he's always liked you more. He relates to you more than me. It was always easier talking to you than me. He doesn't have to worry about trusting you. If he tells you something, he knows it will be done. You never complained to do anything noble, although he knows you hated it. You played the part better than I did. Even though it was your sister, you married before I did, had a child, you matured, and you assumed responsibility. He always spoke more highly of you than me."

Bill felt the need to let go of his son's hand. He moved his palm to his brother's cheek to turn Alexander's jealous, heartbroken face. "Richard has always loved you more than me. _You_ are his favorite Alexander. You are _his_ child. Gabriel and I were adopted. I may be more like your father, which is why everything is simpler for him, but he loves you more than me. He always has Alex. Whenever you were hurt or ill, he would stay beside you until it was all over. With me, he would stay by me yes, but more than often, he would simply come to see me throughout the day not sit at my side waiting for me to recover. He was strict and harsh on you because you are his treasured son. He wants what is best for you and he doesn't want you to do something stupid that will kill you in the end. He doesn't want to see you die."

"A little late for that," whispered Alexander under his breath as his head lowered. He stood before his brother spoke. "I'm going back to sleep. Will should be fine."

"Try to sleep well," said Bill.

Alexander shrugged. "I can't promise you anything."

Bill resumed twisting his fingers through his son's curls. _A little late for that_. What exactly did his brother mean by that? He knew something changed Alexander drastically. He wasn't carefree and hardly seemed free. Insecurity and horrors walked in his footsteps. Perhaps it wasn't going to be while he was on the ship with Will, but he would find time in London to get it out of his brother.

* * *

As nothing had changed, Will's consciousness returned to the touch of his father's hand caressing his hairline. He felt, actually, no pain. There was no burning feeling; he felt sore and simply sore. As his mind woke more, he felt gravity pulling on his left side and his right in the comfort of blankets and pillows. His eyes opened to a pillow, his hand, and a blurred image of his father's body and Alexander in a chair sharpening a sword.

"Bill," Alexander's voice called softly as he motioned to Will.

"Hello little one," whispered Bill as he knelt to his son's level.

Will sighed heavily as he rubbed his eyes. "Do I want to know?"

"Probably not," admitted Bill.

"All I know is that I'm just sore and I know the worst of the burning was about to come and I don't feel like anything is burning," said Will. He decided to answer the question himself. "Near a week?"

"Yep," said Alexander. "But you feel fine and you were the one who decided to roll on your side."

"Why are you still here? Why aren't you on your own ship?" wondered Will slowly pushing himself up to sit against a pillow and not rejecting his father's help.

"My ship is either following us or ahead. I don't know. What ever it may be it's fine without me," said Alexander. He set the sword and stone down to kneel beside Bill and take his hand through his nephew's curls a few times. "I'm needed here more."

"I love you two," said Will as he looked at them. He shut his eyes and rubbed them again. "I'm so drugged."

Alexander and Bill exchanged glances, neither one about to deny it.

"You just rest and allow your body to take the medication out of you naturally," said Alexander. "I'll get you some food."

"Please make it real food not whatever can be mashed and added to water," requested Will.

"Of course," said Alexander. "I'm not going to put you through that after not having any say in what I ate for months because that's all I could eat for months."

Will looked at him quizzically as he causally left the room. He leaned into his pillow further.

"William, has your uncle repeatedly spoken in riddles?" wondered Bill.

"Yep," said Will. "Something changed in Alex after I left, something bad."

"Your uncle has seen horrors in his life at a young age and he's seen horrors that no man should see," admitted Bill.

"He is a physician after all," said Will.

Bill nodded. "I know, but it wasn't while being a physician when he experienced horrors no son should see."

"Can I ask what?" wondered Will.

"You can, but I will not answer. It is something the three of us have known about for years but have not spoken on Alex's request," said Bill. He shut his eyes and shook his head. "I'm saying too much."

"No you're not," said Will, a smirk across his face.

Bill looked at him, noticing his son was much more awake. He cupped Will's face with a palm. That hand eventually moved to Will's hairline to push the curls from his face.

"I think it is you who needs a piece of me to survive until you are free," remarked Will.

"I've never had you Will. Knowing you are here and I must work for you back in my life is just deserved," said Bill.

"Well, you're not the only one going through Hell right now," said Will.

"Jack really isn't all that bad," said Bill.

"No, but what is my uncle going to do to me?" wondered Will.

Bill's head tilted to the side as he thought on that question. His jaw lowered and eyes raised as he shrugged. "I suppose all I can say is good luck mate."

Agreeing wholeheartedly with him, Will nodded.

"REALLY!"

Bill smiled at that voice.

Will looked to the door, quite simply just waiting.

A young man hollered at everything, including doors and barrels that got in his path as he tripped and tore across the wooden decks to halt in the doorway and look at Will with a huge smile on his face.

"Hello Jack. I have the feeling you've been waiting for me to wake," said Will.

"Yep," replied Jack as he, just as quickly, leapt onto the cot to wrap his arms around Will.

Unsure what to do, as he had never done this to anyone in a while, Will hesitantly brought his arms on Jack's back.

"I thought you were never going to wake. They told me it was better because you wouldn't feel anything, but I still like knowing you are awake and well rather than sleeping and questionable," said Jack.

"I'm fine now," Will told him.

"Alex says he still wants you to rest," said Jack.

"He's my uncle Jack. Family is always worried over another," said Will.

Jack nodded. "My father didn't care for me much it seemed but Bill told me he does."

Will's eyes narrowed in confusion. They turned to his father.

"I let him read a few pages in his father's journals," explained Bill. "I thought with my being here he can ask questions and get answers rather than another 'I don't know'."

"Thank you," said Will.

"Oh, and all the questions I had for you have been answered," said Jack with a happy smile on his face.

"I'm glad," said Will.

Bill nudged Jack in the shoulder and motioned to Will with his head.

Jack slumped as he looked at Bill. His eyes lowered then he sat tall with a straight back. "Will Turner, I apologize for being rude and taking the journals from you. I understand you were only trying to help me. I also apologize for my poor attitude." He held out his hand. "This is when we shake hands, proving you either acknowledge what I've said and or accept my apology," added Jack, leaning closer.

Will smiled as he took Jack's hand. "Apology accepted."

Jack gave a nod of his head. He turned back to Bill. "There, how was that?"

"Very good," said Bill with a proud smile.

"I practiced with Hector and Joshamee," said Jack.

"And since you mentioned those two," began Alexander as he returned with a bit of food. "The two of them want to apologize to you as well Will."

"For what?" wondered Will, his face narrow in confusion.

"They didn't say," replied Alexander. He showed Will the soup that looked like he combined anything that boiled down to mush in water. "Is this to your liking?"

Will looked at the soup then turned to Alexander with a raised eyebrow.

Alexander smiled and motioned to eat.

Knowing his father was beside him and considering shoving the spoon down his throat, Will dipped the spoon in the soup then looked at it as the liquid dripped off the sides. He shut his eyes as he clamped his mouth around the spoon. His face softened as his eyes opened. Chewing curiously, he looked at his uncle.

"Is it good?" wondered Jack.

Will nodded, spooning more. "I can't believe it but I do. Alex this is really good."

"My father perfected it some years ago," said Alexander. He lowered his eyes as his hands twisted in his lap. "I came down with an influenza that became pneumonia. I couldn't eat much and father discovered this was all I could keep inside of me. After his own torturous days of eating small amounts, he found the right portions for everything while boiling medicines to the food to maintain what I lost while I was ill."

"That would explain the disgusting aftertaste," muttered Will.

Hearing that, Bill's laughter rang through the room.

Jack's eyes widened. "The tattoo!" he cried, pointed at Bill. "I remember the tattoo. You laughed just like that when you just got the tattoo."

"Jack slow down," said Will as he set his hand on Jack's shoulder. "What about a tattoo."

With a smile on his face, Jack pointed at Bill. "I remember when he got his first tattoo."

"That's wonderful Jack now why don't you go on deck and help Hector captain the ship," said Bill, his voice full with nervousness as his face turned red.

"Do you still have it?" wondered Jack.

"I don't think it's possible to remove tattoos Jack," said Bill.

"Jack, do you remember where he got this tattoo that I don't know about and am about to see because I'm making him let me see it?" asked Will.

Not understanding a word Will said, Jack's head tilted to the side as his eyes narrowed.

"He means to say do you remember when he received the tattoo," explained Alexander.

"Of course I remember where we were," said Jack. "We were in Singapore. We had bottles in our hands and we were walking down the street laughing. I think we passed by a shop and Bill decided to walk in saying he had always wanted to get a tattoo. When he was asked what he wanted he told the man 'I want Jack Sparrow to be behind me forever because he's my little brother and best friend'. Ah, ha! I even remember what he said."

"What does it look like?" wondered Alexander.

"I don't remember that," admitted Jack.

"I'll show you," said Bill as he leaned over Will to pull Jack's sleeve to the center of his forearm. "There you are; that's what it looks like."

"So," began Will. "Where did you get this tattoo?"

"Behind him," replied Jack.

"Thank you Jack, but where?" wondered Will.

"Behind him," replied Jack again.

Alexander looked at Bill whose face was cherry red and burst into laughter.

"I don't understand," said Will.

"Will, _behind_ him," said Alexander.

Will's face thought a moment until he turned to his father. "Let's see it. Lower your trousers."

Bill's face formed a glare as he looked upon Jack who smiled proudly because he remembered something on his own.

**-)(-**

_I was given no other option but to break a moment because of the laughter in the room. I wasn't the only one who needed to catch my breath. Looking at Grandfather and Edward, I thought they were going to pass out due to lack of air to their lungs._

"_William, you will show me this tattoo of yours," announced Grandfather._

"_Absolutely not," Father refused._

"_We'll go into another room and you will show us this," said Edward._

_Giving him no other option, Grandfather took Father's hand and dragged him out of the room. As he was being dragged away, I felt the glare he was giving me._

_I couldn't help but to laugh harder when Elizabeth, Alexander, Edward, Dirk, Gabriel, and Colleen wandered followed behind them too. Jack and I leaned against each other when Thomas wandered after them. _

"_Hush!" I demanded of Jack._

_As I had hoped, whistling and loud laughter more than Jack and I, suddenly burst through the door in front of us._

_Jack leaned against me, tears of laughter falling from both of our eyes'. _

_Slowly one by one, they returned in the room, my father last._

_I had never seen his face that red before and I swore I had never seen him look at me like he wanted to kill me._

"_I'm not the one who remembered," I reminded._

"_Of all things you had to remember that. I still cannot believe that was one of the first memories you regained," said Father ashamed._

"_But you were glad to see me remember something," said Jack._

_Father rolled his eyes and nodded._

_Sparing him more shame, I continued with the story._

_Alexander and I were laughing against each other as my father buttoned his trousers again. When I looked at Jack's expression of shock and the angle of his tilted head, I thought I was going to suffocate myself because I couldn't breathe._

**-)(-**

"Oh," Jack said beside Will, his face as red as Bill's. Ashamed to have brought up the comment, he turned away.

Will inhaled deeply, attempting to regain air into his lungs. As he blinked, his eyes spilled the tears of laughter.

"I'll admit this mark upon my skin isn't quite what I wished for as a tattoo, but I have no other option but to live with it," said Bill.

"I like my tattoos," said Jack. His face brightened. "Will should get one."

Will gave a laugh. "What do you propose I have marked on my skin then?"

Jack shrugged a shoulder. "I don't know but your father and I have one so you should have one too."

"However, my uncle doesn't have one," noted Will.

Alexander chuckled as he lowered his head to his palm supported by his elbow on his leg. A smirk wiped across his face, not looking at anyone.

Will's head tilted to the side as his eyes narrowed. His shoulders slumped.

"Don't look at me like that William," Alexander told him. "I've had this tattoo since I've had my ship and I'm proud to say both still appear as new as the day I received them."

"You never told me," said Will.

"You didn't ask," Alexander told him.

"And you knew about this?" Will asked his father.

"Of course," said Bill as he rolled his sleeve on his tanned right arm. "He got his after I got this."

Will wasn't looking at the beautiful calligraphic tattooed letters spelling _my little one Will_. No, his eyes were fixed at the result of hot metal pressed against his father's wrist. His finger traced the mark.

"I have that too," announced Jack proudly as he pushed up his sleeve.

"When? How? Why?" was all Will managed to get out of his mouth.

"Jack and I when you were three, we took slave ships on the African coast, technically we weren't committing acts of piracy and there was no other option unless we wanted to hang by our necks," said Bill casually. He pressed his palm against Will's cheek to make his son look at him. "I will tell you of this, but now is not the time because there isn't enough time to explain it right now, but know I received this mark with my head held high because I did the right thing."

"This is why you left us. You didn't leave us because you didn't want us but because we couldn't be safe around you," said Will, a shadow of his past finally seeing the light of life.

Quite simply, Bill nodded his head.

"Like my father," Jack said softly. A distant expression carried his face away. "I'm not the only one then."

"Jack, I told you; you and are in similar situations. I have no memory of the first eight years of my life and my father died when I was fifteen and therefore, technically, remember a mere seven years of life with my father," reminded Bill.

"Well, that makes three of us then," Will's voice softly added.

Bill's head curiously turned to his son who was rubbing the back of his neck. "What do you mean by that?"

"He doesn't know?" wondered Will, turning to his uncle.

"We haven't exactly had enough time to talk when we are together," reminded Alexander.

Will shrugged. "When I was eight, I fell from the tree house; the result was a month of Jack's amnesia and another month of slowly recalling my life until I saw my mother. She and Alex were in Scotland at the time. I was bored and no one was watching me so I decided to break the one rule of the tree house and climb it. Since the two of you grew too old for it, no one bothered keeping it and I was leaning over the side. The wood broke and I fell on my head, broke my arm too."

"Ouch," whispered one Jack Sparrow, whose face was twisted into a small expression of pain.

All Bill did was stare at his little one with horrified, frightened eyes. He set his palm on Will's cheek. "Are you all right?"

"Father," said Will, taking his hand. "That was fifteen years ago. I'm nearly twenty three; it happened when I was eight. I have my memories before I was eight."

"I don't," Bill told him. He set his other hand on Will's other cheek. "You could have been killed. Why did you climb that tree house when you were told not to? You should have known better."

"Curiosity and no one was there watching me," said Will. He removed his father's hands from his face to hold them in his lap and honestly look into his father's eyes. "I'm fine now. It doesn't matter. I didn't forget my life or who I am. This is who I was born to be. I'm the same Will you left twenty years ago. The only change that's been made is my height."

"Are you sure?" Bill asked him clearly.

"Father, yes," replied Will just as clear. His eyes narrowed in confusion. "Why such the concern?"

"When I was eight years old with amnesia, I never remembered a moment before then," replied Bill.

"Oh no!" Jack suddenly cried. "I want to remember my life. I want to remember everything before this happened. If you didn't remember then I may not remember either. I want to have my memories. I want to know who I am."

"Jack," said Will. "I remembered. My father didn't. For every person amnesia is different. You will remember, I promised you."

"Are you sure I'll remember?" asked Jack hesitantly.

"Jack, have you remembered anything?" asked Bill before his son spoke.

Jack's head nodded subtly. "I remembered you and Elizabeth and a few words."

"Then you'll remember in time," said Bill. "I remembered nothing for months. We knew after a few months I would never remember my life before the age of eight." The horror on Jack's face grew. "But, if that is your fate, you will learn to live with it as I have."

"I want to remember my life. I want to know who I am and not become someone I shouldn't be," said Jack.

Will sighed as his hand moved to a cord around Jack's neck. He brought the necklace from underneath Jack's tunic.

Jack held the cord in his palm. As he stared at the pieces on the necklace, his face twisted into hopelessness and tears fell into the center of the piece of eight. He stared at the piece, feeling the hot tears fall from the side and onto his palm eventually.

"I feel that every promise made to me in my life was ruined and that not one of them happened. People just said all that to keep me feeling all right."

"Sometimes promises are made and the world prevents them from coming true. I know how that is Jack, believe me. Too many promises have been forgotten in my life," said Will.

"But you still have some that are still together," said Jack. "Don't lie to me; I know more promises were kept for you than me."

"I don't know Jack. I didn't live your life," said Will.

"No one did; that's just the very problem," said Jack.

"I remembered," said Alexander softly.

The three looked at him oddly, Bill the oddest of them all.

Alexander causally took a drink from his mug. He looked at his brother and nodded. "Yes Bill, I have had amnesia before and Jack I remembered too."

"Out of three people I know who have had amnesia only one hasn't remembered!" cried Jack happily. He looked at Will. "I like how that sounds."

"Who?" asked Bill.

Alexander shook his head and leaned forward. "What actually." He poured more water in his glass then turned to Will. "You would have been thirteen at the time. I was on my ship attending to her every need then the sea decided to turn her back on me although I know it's not a likely chance a rogue wave would hit the ship just the exact moment I lean out of the safety of the rigging." He took a drink. "Not to mention there was no swell of the wave after the ship rocked."

His eye flashed to Bill as he drank more as he raised an eyebrow.

Bill's head tilted to the side as his eyes narrowed in confusion. All too many a familiar sight in his eyes, a sight that nearly brought about the end of his life just a year ago.

"What happened?" asked Jack.

Alexander shrugged a shoulder as he crossed his ankles on the table in front of him. "I don't remember it, but I was told once what occurred. Simply, my hold was lost and I fell. Apparently, the force was taken on my head. Miraculously, nothing was broken and only my skull was a bit cracked. What are the odds of a fall like that and only coming out with amnesia and a concussion?"

I don't know," said Jack. He turned and leaned to Will. "What does he meant by that?"

"It means the fall would have killed him," said will.

Jack gave a nod of his head. "I didn't know falls could kill people."

"Anything or anyone can kill people. It simply depends which happens first," Alexander told him simple and plain.

"Oh," said Jack with a satisfied nod of his head. "Anything or anyone can kill me" He nodded again. Soon after, his composure and aura became quite sarcastic. "Perfectly wonderfully bloody brilliant mate." He smiled at them then slumped and rolled his eyes.

"Well, the question is who will follow me and remember nothing but that he will be taught and days to come," said Bill.

The three looked at him all with expressions truly reflecting their personality: Alexander shook his head with an eye roll at his brother's philosophical nonsense, Will shut his eyes ignoring that thought and concentrated on the pain to become aware of the areas he needed to have care upon, and Jack looked at him trying to make sense of Bill's words and his face was bunched into a ridiculous expression of confusion and wonder

"All of you need a cup of tea, warm sofa, blazing fire, and Plato accompanied by Shakespeare at your side," said Bill.

"I had an excuse not to read classical authors," said Will.

"As does Jack," said Bill. He turned to Alexander. "I'm talking about you Lord Seastone. You need to brush up on your lessons."

"I'm a physician, to a philosopher," said Alexander.

"And I'm part of the _Flying Dutchman_," Bill told him.

Alexander opened his mouth to speak with a raised finger. His mouth moved into several words, yet no sound. He inhaled to speak a word then let it out in a heavy sight, not knowing quite exactly what to say to him.

"Alex, I have to say I missed you," said Bill.

"Why?" wondered Alexander.

"Because you're never going to grow up. You will always be a child in the world," replied Bill.

Blood rushing to Alexander's face tinted his cheeks red and eyes widened. He looked at them then turned away in shame. "You're right, Jack is more grown up than me."

"I am?" asked Jack.

"Aye, you are," said Alexander.

Bill leaned away from hi son to take Alexander's face between his palms. "I meant that to be reminiscent. When I was still in your life, especially just beginning in your life, you always told everyone you would never grow up and become a man. Even when you reach one hundred years old, you would still play with your wooden swords and eat cakes when you want. Nothing in the world could cause enough influence on you to mature into a man. At twenty three years old, you claimed that because you had the appearance of a child and a man younger than you were, you had an excuse not to grow up." He smiled at his little brother then pulled at a golden curl. "What happened to my Alex?"

"You're Alex had not choice but to grow up and he did so over night. The world finally broke him to pieces and forced him to become a man," said Alexander.

"I know that feelings," Will's voice added. "I sill have need to adapt to growing up."

"Will, you've always been mature and smart. You're always been older than me," said Alexander.

"I'm not older than you than you," announced Jack proudly, he then slumped his shoulders. "I don't think I'm older than you."

""Yes you are," said Alexander.

"Oh, then how old am I?" wondered Jack.

"I don't know," said Will.

"But I thought you knew everything about me," said Jack.

Will sadly shook his head. "I know only as much as the day I met you Jack. I wish I knew more but I don't."

Quite unexpectedly, Jack's face lit with joy. "I have an idea," he said as he collected green leather bound books. "You can read my father's journals. I don't believe that all happened to me but you can if you want."

"Thank you again Jack," said Will, touching he cover of the first book. "If my father didn't tell you to give these to me to read would you still allow me to read them?"

"I think so, but I don't know," admitted Jack. "But I don't know a lot of things."

"Give it time Jack. It took me two months to recall everything," said Will.

"And about a month for me," added Alexander.

Jack's eyes passed from Will to Alexander then remained on Bill, the one who never apian regained his life back.

"Jack Sparrow," said Bill knowing just what was going through jack's mind. "You will remember. This amnesia is not permanent. You will remember who you are."

"You don't know that. None of you do," said Jack, his eyes lowering in quite, fright.

Will pushed himself from his pillows to sit up straight. He breathed deeply and bit his lip while squeezing his eyes shut.

Jack, Alexander, and especially Bill lunged for his arms.

Will looked at all of t hem and rolled his eyes. "I'm recovering and therefore sore, not made of cracking porcelain. I'm not going to break.

"You look like you are," said Jack.

"I'm a Turner. Turners are near impossible to kill," said Will.

"No William, it is quite possible to kill Tuners. We aren't immortal," said Bill.

Will rolled his eye as he looked at his father; that wasn't the intention. "Everyone dies Jack."

"Die?" asked Jack, the tone expressing the confusion of the word and meaning rather than the time of death.

"We'll talk about that another time," said Will. "Can I tell you what I want to now?" Jack nodded. "And the rest of you will let me speak?" The other two nodded. "Jack," continued ill as he set a hand on Jack's shoulder. "You will remember."

Jack looked at him. He raised his eyebrows and looked around curiously then back to Will. He leaned closer. "Is that it?"

"Yes, that's all I wanted to say," replied Will, leaning against the pillow again.

"I do not understand you," Jack said to himself.

"Jack, why don't you go on deck for a while and let William rest," suggested Bill.

"Okay," said Jack with a shrug. He hopped off the cot. "I'll bring you dinner" Then, he left.

"I'll let you two be," said Alexander, knowing this to be a rare moment between them and the only time when they would be together for a longer time.

He ran his fingers through Will's curls with a half smile on his face then left the room, shutting the door behind him.

The two Tuners looked at each other for a long moment until Bill gently pulled Will against his chest.

Will welcomed his father's embrace. Savoring his father holding him, he shut his eye as he nuzzled his forehead against his father's shoulder.

Happy content, and more satisfied with himself, Bill rested his cheek against Will's soft curls. Even after everything he went through, his son's curls were still soft.

They didn't speak; there was no need. Every word they wanted to say to each other was already being said in this small moment.

"But I wanna dot it!'

"Shut up Jack."

"My ship, makes me captain! You're chart man!"

"And how do you know that?"

"Will told me."

"Fine!"

Will suddenly began laughing. Although their small moment wasn't enough for either of them he knew they would never get I back now, and, not to mention, Jack's whining was amusing. He pushed from his father's arms.

Reluctantly, Bill allowed his son to slip from his fingers. He looked at his son longingly.

"Father, you'll have me in a few months," said Will. "You no longer have to wonder and wait. You know I'll be waiting for you and you know you are coming home to me."

"I've waited nineteen years to hold you in my arms again. I've tired of waiting and when I am home finally, I'll have to wait more," said Bill.

"No you won't because we'll be together," Will told him.

The father sighed heavily. He moved from the chair to the side of the cot. Facing his son, he took his hand and began the story. "When you are pat of the _Dutchman_ you are neither alive nor dead. As you may have realized, you're both. When on the ship you can still be injured. Quite obviously it cannot kill you because you're partly dead." He looked at Will for a nod of conformation before continuing. "When Edward releases me from the ship, I become human again, human and mortal. And because I couldn't die on the ship being partly dead to be mortal I have to heal."

"What do you mean 'heal'?" Will suddenly asked.

Bill's heart sank as his son's face paled and eyes widened. He set his palm on his son's cheek. "You know what I mean when I say heal Every injury given to me while serving on that ship must be healed and I must recover. Remember, I was curses for nine years of service to heal."

"But I know what happened. I happened!" cried Will desperately "I I caused you r life to ruin. Nothing happened to you until I happened."

"William," said Bill, cupping his son's face between his palms. "I did it. All right? I got you out of there and I took the blame myself."

"I was there," Will clearly told him.

"William, that moment when I looked at you was the happiest moment of my life!" cried Bill, quieting his son from the wonder. "I saw you again. It was my wish of everything I had ever wanted. I wanted to see my son and hold him one more time and to tell him how much I love him. I did all three. My soul was worth your life. If I have to sacrifice myself wholly from this earth to ensure your safety and freedom then fine. I'm not going to let anyone touch you again. You're my son Will. When I held you again I knew that and I now I know that."

Will sat quietly , continuing to gaze at his father in wonder. "What were you thinking?"

"I was ignoring what I did to you moment before—"

"And that? What do you make of that?"

"I'll never forgive myself, but I won't ever regret it. When you fell asleep in my lap I admit I cried as hard as I did when you were born."

Will raised his finger, hushing his father. "If you love me as much as you say why did you not come back home?"

"The same reason you left and dint return. You were afraid. And so was I."

"I still don't understand."

"I was afraid to lose you Will. I feared being caught and ruing my family's life."

"Why didn't you simply face it or accept it and find something to do about it?"

"I don't know. Still, I was afraid."

"I don't understand how people cannot be with they one's they love most."

An idea struck Bill. He looked at the green dye on the leather bound journals. A wide smile spread across his face.

"I don't like that look," said Will.

"No, William," said Bill reaching for the books. "You do."

"You want me to read Jacks journals?" wondered Will.

"They aren't his. These are green. Jack's journals are brown. These green journals belong to Edward Teague, otherwise known- by very few- as Jonathan Teague's father," said Bill.

"I know that father. Jack told me and I know about the two of them on account of Bailey and Hector," said Will, rather annoyed.

"Hector? "You're giving him recognition in the world and calling him hector?" asked Bill not quite so amused anymore.

"The man is human too father. I wouldn't have exactly called you human an month ago" said Will

Bill gave a nod of his head. "Touché."

He flipped through the pages of the books until the correct one came to be. As if it was a scroll from the Alexandrian library itself, he handed it to Will.

Will rolled his yes at his father's nonsense. He curled back against his pillow and began to read again.

"Tea?"

Startled, the book flung from Will's grasp, falling in his lap.

"Sorry," said bill apologetically.

"I don't know if I drink tea," admitted Will, returning to the book. "I've never had tea before."

His eyes followed the sentence he was reading to his ap as his father's finger pushed the book down. He looked at him.

"You better begin liking tea. Your grandfather has a room of teas and four o'clock on the second is tea time everyday for him and the rest of the adults in the family. Alexander has a favorite tea, my brother does, I do… Jack drinks tea."

Will laughed a few laughs and looked at his father as if the man lost his mind. "Jack Sparrow doesn't drink tea."

Accepting Will's utter amusement, Bill nodded. "You can continue reading."

"What happened to him?" asked Will. "Three year old 'Jackie' was the most content child on earth."

Bill pointed to the book. "Read William. I'll return momentarily."

"Quietly this time," added Will, sticking his nose in the book again.

Bill made to leave the room. In the doorway, he turned his head to look at his little one. A small, soft smile lightened his face. Warm moisture filled his eyes. This was his son, his little boy, his little one he was watching reading a book.

So contently and alive, Will sat on the cot reading the first of many journals in the attempt to decipher the mystery that was Jack Sparrow's life.

Eventually, Will close his tired eyes for only a moment was he wanted.

When Bill raised his eyes from the book to take a glance at his son , he saw Will was asleep.

Will's head was tilted to the side and the book gently in his lap as if he simply intended to dose his eyes for a moment.

The father removed the book from his son's lap and placed it on the table. He brought Will in his arms to settle him flat on the bed then tucked the blankets around his body. As he did so, Will curled into the pillow sleeping all the more soundly.

Bill pulled the curtains over the window in the quarters, allowing only a dull light to shine. He tucked the curls behind his son's ear. Discovering the piercing, he smiled.

"You and I are much alike Will.," he whispered. "I'll be back in a little while. Sleep well little one."

So gently and lightly, like Will was a newborn baby, he pressed his lips against this child's temple. "I love you William."

Will had no other response then his continuous, light breathing.

Contended with more in his struggled life, Bill wandered quietly from the room. Out in the cabin, Alexander and Barbossa sat around two bottles of rum and a few biscuits and cards.

"If you want to know, he is sleeping."

"God because he needs his sleep to recover," said Alexander. He turned to Barbossa. "King?"

Barbossa rolled his eyes with digest as he threw the card down. "How is he doing?"

"Reading the journals," replied Bill as he sat next to Alexander. He took the bottle from his brother as he crossed his ankles on the table.

"Two?" wondered Barbossa.

"Nope," replied Alexander. "How is he taking it?"

"He's asking questions," said Bill. "And he's not understanding well."

"I've known Jack since he was eight and I still don't understand him," said Alexander. "Two?"

Sighing in disgust, Barbossa gave him his two. "I've known Jack since before the _Pearl_ and I do admit I understand him as he should be. I still am not used to this Jack. Five?"

Alexander shook his head.

"I haven't told Edward," Bill suddenly told them.

In mid reach for a card or bottle, Barbossa and Alexander looked at him.

"Are you referring to Jack's amnesia?" wondered Alexander slowly.

Bill nodded. "That would be it yes."

"He's going to kill you," noted Barbossa.

"Would you want to know that your son has amnesia if you had a child?" asked Bill.

"I certainly would like to know," Alexander told him. "Four?"

"That's because you are the Seastone physician and ye would be lookin' after him yerself," said Barbossa flinging the card at Alexander. "Jack?"

"I have no cards in my hand however I think he's on deck helping keep the boards from shrinking," replied Alexander.

Barbossa threw down the rest of the cards in disgust. "How do you do it?"

"I play this with my children when I'm home," replied Alexander.

"So should I tell him or not?" wondered Bill.

"I'm not the one who has no other choice but to be with him for a few months," said Barbossa.

Alexander shot him a glare. "What he means to say is that it is your choice."

"Opinions are a wonderful thing to have you two," said Bill.

"I would tell him because it is his child," said Alexander.

"I wouldn't mention it because he can never have Jack and knowing his boy has amnesia will cause him to stray away from his duty to the _Dutchman_ which is something he can't do if he wants to look like Edward Teague," replied Barbossa.

"Will says I should wait until you reach London in hopes he will remember before you arrive," said Bill. "And I tend to agree with him. If he knows Jack is off the ocean and still with amnesia Eddy can do nothing because he can't step on land. I also know Edward is a man not fond of secrets against him and ones involving his child."

"Then he's going to kill you no matter what it is that you do," said Barbossa.

"No, he'll hate you then understand your reasoning behind it," said Alexander.

The doors opened and in came Jack Sparrow with a tray in his hands. He whistled a familiar tune.

"Do you know what that song is?" wondered Barbossa.

"Nope. All I know is it came to my head when I was washing the deck," said Jack.

"Do you know the words?" wondered Barbossa.

Jack looked at him oddly. "There are words too? Oh, well then I suppose I just know the tune and not the words. I'll ask Will what they are."

"If that is my son's dinner he is sleeping and probably going to be sleeping the rest of the night," said Bill.

His hand still on the knob to enter the room, Jack slumped and rolled his eyes. He turned around. "Dinner?"

"What is it?" wondered Alexander.

"Fresh fish I caught today," said Jack.

"I haven't had good, fresh fish for a while," said Alexander, motioning Jack to bring it in front of him.

"Did you know Pintel and Ragetti can't fish?" asked Jack.

Barbossa chuckled as he nodded his head. "Aye, I've known for a while."

A furry blur whipped past Bill before climbing on Jack's shoulder.

Armed with the bottle of rum, Bill stared the little monkey down with narrow eyes.

"He's not doing anything wrong. All he does is sit on my shoulder everyday," said Jack.

Across the table, Barbossa let out a sigh of pain.

"What?" asked Alexander.

"I don't know what hurts more honestly. Jack likes the monkey or 'Jack' not liking me anymore," replied Barbossa.

"That's fine, I like him," said Jack.

"I hate that damn monkey," muttered Bill as he took a drank.

"Can I ask all of you a question about me?" wondered Jack.

"Yes," they all replied at once.

"Do you think I'm odd?" asked Jack.

All four responded with something along the word "no" but in their own form.

"Absolutely not."

"Not anymore than usual Jack Sparrow. Ye've always been an odd one."

"I've not been around you recently to truly know how much you've changed."

"Why do you talk to me like I'm normal and no one else?" wondered Jack.

"I told you before; they just don't know what to say," said Bill.

"But they talk to me like I'm stupid and that I don't know anything and I do know some things just not a lot and they make me feel stupid and like I'm some extra useless cargo," Jack told them.

Alexander and Barbossa looked at Bill with a smile that meant he was the lucky one to explain that to Jack.

"There are few in this world who know how to cope with amnesia. Generally, it is more difficult for people around the one who has amnesia because they don't know what to do. We know what to do because myself and Alex and Will have had amnesia. Hector over here is but there and he takes life as it is given to him."

"What did you say?" wondered Hector incredulously.

"I said you take life as it is given to you," repeated Bill.

"How did ye say my name to Jack over here?" asked Hector.

Recalling the conversation in his head, Bill rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Hector. I called you Hector."

Satisfied, Barbossa sat back in the chair and waved his hand to Jack to continue if he so desired.

"When will they see me as me?" asked Jack.

Again, Barbossa and Alexander turned to Bill.

Jack's eyes no longer held curiosity. They looked at Bill pleadingly.

"Jack, I don't know that answer," said Bill truthfully.

"Oh," said Jack quietly.

"I think they will be fine soon enough. It doesn't take that much time for someone to talk to you again," said Bill.

"It's taking long enough. I wish Will was all right. He's the only one who talks to me and you're leaving when he gets better so then I'll only bother Will and I don't like just bothering Will because I think I'm the only thing ruining his life," Jack told him.

"No, Will wants to help you remember, I've already spoken with him and he's all right being the onl y one for you," said Bill.

Alexander brought his feet from the table to the floor.

"How did ye say my name to Jack over here?" asked Hector.

Recalling the conversation in his head, Bill rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Hector. I called you Hector."

Satisfied, Barbossa sat back in the chair and waved his hand to Jack to continue if he so desired.

"When will they see me as me?" asked Jack.

Again, Barbossa and Alexander turned to Bill.

Jack's eyes no longer held curiosity. They looked at Bill pleadingly.

"Jack, I don't know that answer," said Bill truthfully.

"Oh," said Jack quietly.

"I think they will be fine soon enough. It doesn't take that much time for someone to talk to you again," said Bill.

"It's taking long enough. I wish Will was all right. He's the only one who talks to me and you're leaving when he gets better so then I'll only bother Will and I don't like just bothering Will because I think I'm the only thing ruining his life," Jack told him.

"No, Will wants to help you remember, I've already spoken with him and he's all right being the only one for you," said Bill.

Alexander brought his feet from the table to the floor. He pulled out a chair beside him and motioned for Jack to sit there.

Hesitantly, Jack moved to Alexander's side. He sat in the chair and simply looked at him.

A smile widened across Alexander's face. "When we arrive at my home in London, the place where we are staying, you will already have your own room."

"Of course," whispered Bill, feeling quite like an idiot at the moment.

Jack looked between him and Alexander several times over and over. "What?"

"Jack," began Alexander as he set a hand on Jack's shoulder. "You came to live in my home when you were eight. My family helped take care of you until you were old enough to be on your own and even then you would find me on the sea and we would do nothing but talk about our childhoods."

"Simply Jack, you are going home," added Bill.

"Home?" Jack asked them then began to wonder to himself. "Home. What is home?"

The place ye belong Jack," Barbossa's voice called.

"Then I belong at your home?" asked Jack, looking to Alexander. "Do I have my own home?"

"Your home is in Ireland, and island country not far from where Alexander lives," said Bill.

"Why aren't we going there? It's my home so should we go there?" asked Jack.

"Not yet. We'll take you to Will's home then yours," Bill told him.

Jack face lit right up as he nodded. Something said turned his mood upside down. "Will's home. I can live at Alexander's home if it's Will's home," he said, happier about the situation now.

Satisfied with himself again, he bounced from the cabin and onto main deck where he told every person he saw that he was going home, which only confused the crew more knowing Jack didn't live in London.

"Meanwhile, Bill returned to his sleep child and Alexander sought Will's exhaustion as the opportune moment to clean the burn on his body.

"It's healing very well considering the conditions," Alexander made note of.

Bill nodded while gently letting his hand slip from behind Will's head. He stared at his little one. The sting of tears burned his eyes as he pressed the palm of his hand across the bandages above Will's heart.

Cleaning in the corner, Alexander noticed this. "As long as he doesn't rip it open and keep it clean and bandaged he'll be fine. I'm here William and if it does rip or anything else happen to him I'll heal him up."

"I know he'll be all right with you here," Bill said, his voice alluding to the dark thoughts in his mind of the past.

"I understand how you feel," said Alexander. "If anyone so much as threatened my Thomas, I would track that person and kill him. There is an unwritten rule of the word and said rule being you don't fool around with another man's son or it be the last thing you do."

"And where did you hear that?" wondered Bill.

"Ironically, my father," replied Alexander not amused.

"I know you don't want to Alex; we have to tell him," said Bill, running his fingers through the curls. "He's not nine anymore."

"Tell him which part?" wondered Alexander.

"All of them," said Bill.

Alexander shook his head as he looked down on his nephew. "No, he doesn't have to know everything. Some is irrelevant to him. He needs to know no more than the father son relationship we have."

"And then therefore the rest of the story," said Bill.

"I can't tell him," whispered Alexander, the stinging of tears now forming in his eyes in the corner of the room.

"You have to tell him it's not long. I don't want him to find out until the very end that you knew all along and didn't tell him. My Will is like me Alex. He doesn't forgive for secrets," said Bill.

Shaking his head subtly, Alexander clutched the ledge before the window. His back hunched forward, everything tensing greatly. His gasps as he attended to conceal the tears apparently weren't soft enough, for he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Twenty five years ago, you would have set that hand on my back. Now, you don't because you know I won't feel it."

"Alex," began Bill gently. His mouth moved into several words, but nothing came out.

"Don't try to find anything against that William. You won't because you know it's every thing the truth is," said Alexander.

"Is this what you are afraid of? Will knowing about your back?" wondered Bill.

Alexander's head shook. "I want one person not looking at me differently. I want one person who will always think of me as the way I was before this happened. Will is my one piece of who I once was."

"You can't change the past."

"I know. Oh, don't tell me. No need. I know I can't change anything."

"Including Will. When I told you he wasn't nine anymore, that literally meant he's not nine. My son is nearly twenty three years old and so is his head."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means," began Bill then sighed heavily as he many scenarios of what Alexander would do next played in his head. "Alex, it means he knows his grandfather is addicted to alcohol and that he left because you two were too drunk to recognize his face and the bruising didn't just come from sleep—"

"How much of that does he know?" cried Alexander, whipping around with horror on his face and in his eyes.

"He suspects but doesn't understand or know how. All he knows is the bruising sprung up the next morning aft seeing his grandfather drinking in his chair near the fire and putting a pillow over his head to try to go back to sleep after you and your father woke him arguing and screaming at each other."

Alexander's knees gave. Reaching for the chair only caused it to push away from him. He sat on the floor as Jack's memories.

As his older brother, Bill joined his little brother on the floor. He gently pulled Alexander rigid arms to his side then his rigid body against himself. Not one word was spoken as he held onto his brother.

"Do you think he knows what I let him do to me?" Alexander's voice softly asked.

"Alex I don't know," said Bill.

"Tell him for me, please," Alexander told him pleadingly. "I can't tell him. I'm not Alexander the Great, his immortal, invincible uncle."

Nodding Bill tucked his brother's head under his jaw.

"I can't even feel you holding me."

Shutting his eyes, Bill flattened his cheek on his brother's head.


	6. VI

From a distance, Will felt his body shaking lightly and someone softly calling his name. It was such a wonderful dream. Why was it being interrupted? He and Elizabeth were in their small inlet that no one but he knew how to find. They didn't have a care in the world.

"Will, I need to tell you something."

_Jack!_ What was Jack doing in his dream. No, no, no! This wasn't right. _Jack go away! Why are you here! You always ruin everything!_ Oh great. Elizabeth was gone and now Jack was chasing after him.

"WILL!"

"What, what! What's wrong Jack?" Will asked as he snapped his eyes open.

Jack was looking down on him with his hand on Will's right shoulder. An expression of confusion was on his face.

"Jack, what is it?" wondered Will as his began supported his upper body by his elbows and began sitting up. He cried aloud in pain.

"Lay down," Jack told him, gently pressing Will back on the cot. "That's what I wanted to tell you. You're belly is red."

"Go get my uncle then," Will said.

Jack nodded. He went to the door and stuck his head out. "Alexander, Will's belly is red!" He nodded and smiled at Will proudly. "There, I told him."

That proud smile wasn't on his face for long as Bill came running past him, pushing him against the doorframe.

Bill gently pulled his little one's tunic away from his belly while making all attempts to ignore the wet blood stain. He gently sat Will up with Alexander's assistance. Holding Will against him, he brushed his fingers through Will's curls.

"I think you are overreacting," Will told him.

"He does that," said Alexander, gently cutting away the bandages.

But Will couldn't deny he enjoyed the overeating state of his father so he looked at his father with a smile. The moment the air went into his belly wound, his eyes lit in pain and he lost a breath as he clutched his father's tunic.

"Lay him down again," said Alexander calmly.

After Will was on his back once again, Alexander knelt beside the wound studying the conditions of it.

"Is it supposed to look like that?" wondered Jack, curiously.

Just as curious, Bill peeked at the wound. The stitches were holding, however, the wound itself was bleeding slightly and pussing a yellow substance. Around the wound was a combination of a dried blood red, yellow crust. He watched as his brother's finger wiped along the side of the wound roughly, collecting the liquid and watched it dry.

"Eh, Alex," he said turning away. "That's disgusting."

Alexander had the substance on his finger as his eyes were closely looking at it. "Bill, does this look yellow to you," he said as he shoved his finger in his brother's face.

Bill looked down and immediately turned away. "Alex, I'm going to be sick. Stop."

"Well?" asked Alexander.

"Alex, I don't know," said Bill. He turned back then squeezed his eyes shut. "Get your finger away from me or I'm going to be sick."

"Alex, let me see. It's my body anyway," said Will. He looked at the coloring on his uncle's finger and nodded. "Yep, it's yellow."

"Good," said Alexander, very pleased. He looked around him for a rag then wiped a finger on his brother's tunic.

Feeling that, Bill whipped around. The expression on his brother's face was one only on Alexander's face when he did something so mischievously that everyone knew he was up to something.

Alexander smiled as he raised his forefinger—his clean forefinger.

Bill looked at Alexander's finger. The color of his face became green as he immediately left the room.

"Alex, _that_ was disgusting," said Will.

"Let the eye see what it wants," said Alexander as he lifted a cloth from his lap where the substance was wiped before he ran his fingers across his brother's tunic.

Will shook his head. "Sibling rivalry."

"What's that?" asked Jack.

"My father and uncle are brothers. Brothers mean the same thing as siblings. Siblings are known to pick at each other and fight. Sibling rivalry is another way of saying it," Will told him.

Jack nodded. "I understand now. Thank you."

"Your welcome," said Will.

Alexander walked backwards as he said, "I'll return in a moment. I need to make you a medication that will keep your belly healthy, clean, and rid of any infection that may possibly return."

Jack watched him leave then turned to Will. "I don't want you to have another infection." His voice was small and childlike.

"I'm not. My Uncle Alex is going to cure that right now."

"I don't trust anyone," said Jack.

"Not even my father or uncle?" wondered Will. Jack shook his head. "Why?"

"Your father suddenly appeared from nowhere and Alexander doesn't like to answer questions," said Jack.

"Jack, I trust them. You never have to worry about my uncle. He's a good man," said Will.

"Are you sure?" wondered Jack.

Will nodded. "Positive."

Alexander returned in the room with a cup in one hand as he was rubbing his cheek with the other.

Bill glared at his little brother then went to Will's side.

"He didn't put anything on your tunic," Will told him. "Being part of the crew can you still be sick?"

Bill's eyes narrowed into a colder glare than the one he shot at Alexander.

"That's why I don't trust him!" cried Jack, pointing at him. "Why do you trust someone who looks at you like that?"

"Because he's my father and he knows I'm trying to irritate him," said Will.

"I wouldn't be doing that my dearest nephew because he's going to return the favor," said Alexander.

"Why?" wondered Will slowly.

"Because he's going to be the one holding you down while I put this on your wound," replied Alexander with his mischievous smile.

Will's eyes turned to his father. "What does he mean by that?"

"This medication your uncle is making—" began Bill then paused to consider his words. He raised a finger. "It stings and burns unbearably and the pain, personally, makes me sick."

"Oh," said Will as he turned away.

"And you trust them?" wondered Jack with a raised eyebrow.

"Shut it," muttered Will.

"Really, it's not that bad Bill. I've improved it since your days of application," said Alexander.

"Jack," said Will, softly laughing to himself at the expression of murder across Jack's face. "I don't think it will hurt as badly as he is making it out to be. Sometimes people do that to make it seem like its worse than it is and when it is done then it's not so bad."

Jack's head tilted to the side awkwardly as his eyes wandered as if for the answer.

"Meaning it's not as bad as it seems," said Bill.

"No, when your father says it burns and stings he truly means burns and stings," said Alexander, pouring a few liquids together. "I hate this medication for that reason. It does hurt like hell."

"Great," said Will, with such enthusiasm it was the exact meaning of sarcastic.

"I suppose I can trust them," said Jack, and then raised his thumb and finger, looking through the small opening. "Just a little bit."

Will nodded. "That was a start."

It wasn't long before Bill was sitting beside Will, keeping a tight grasp on Will's arms below his shoulders and Jack doing the same to Will's legs while Alexander was wiping away the crust around the wound. Alexander was literally scrubbing the skin from on Will's belly.

Will breathed sharply as his hand suddenly clutched the blanket.

"That looked like it hurt," said Alexander.

"Are you done yet?" wondered Will.

"With cleaning it yes," replied Alexander. He reached for a bowl beside him. "This literally burns because it needs to cool within your body and it stings until it cools. Afterward, the wound will feel heavy but it cleans the inside of your body and keeps infection away."

"Wonderful," said Will as he sighed.

Alexander apologetically smiled. He leaned over Will, waving a piece of cork in his fingers. "When I said this hurts, I truly meant this hurts Will."

Slight fear coming to his eyes, Will looked at his uncle. "I'm going to kill you aren't I?"

"I'm sorry," whispered Alexander as he set the cork in Will's mouth. He looked at the other two and nodded.

Will's eyes move to his father.

Bill let go of Will's right arm to take his right hand tightly between his fingers. He watched as Will squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered at once. Hushing him as the father he was, he kept him still and calm.

Hate was in Jack's eyes as he felt his best friend squirming beneath his grasp, yet he knew Alexander was helping him. Alexander did save his life before.

"I know this hurts Will. I know," whispered Bill. Will nodded his quivering head. "The burning will ease in a few minutes. You'll feel better in a few minutes. I promise."

He gently pressed his lips on his little one's forehead. Without moving his belly, he wrapped his arms around Will's chest and pulled him close against his body.

Sighing, Alexander observed their small moment of father and son. He envied and hated Will. The boy could have his father with a single uncomfortable expression on his face. He leaned over Will again and guided a thick, molasses consistency mixture directly onto the wound. Hating doing this to anyone, he tuned Will's pain away from himself.

"Is that all?" wondered Jack, desperation in his voice.

Alexander nodded. "That's all."

Hearing those two words, Bill sighed. He eased the cork strip from the clench of his child's teeth, handing it directly to Alexander who also did not acknowledge the bite marks.

"I hate you," Will whispered, looking at his father, but curling into his arms, allowing the tears to soak his father's tunic.

"I know, I know," said Alexander.

"You didn't do this to me," said Will, shaking his head.

"Shh," Bill hushed as he tucked Will's face into his chest. "Try to sleep Will."

"It hurts too much to sleep," Will told him softly.

"And now I redeem myself," said Alexander.

Still sitting on the corner of the cot, Jack was quiet. He watched this man named William Turner hold his child and comfort him and ruffle his fingers through the dark curls while occasionally pressing his lips on Will's forehead. He watched Will tremble and try to curl his body tighter against himself. He watched Alexander and Bill gently pour a liquid into Will's mouth and Will drink. He watched as Will slowly allowed his eyes to close. He watched a father hold his son close and an uncle gently stitch a wound he would watch until the rest of time. He watched a small, broken family come together.

He, himself, wandered out through the door through the cabin and somehow settle himself next to the wheel, disappearing from the world until a monkey scurried past but seated himself in front of him, looking on curiously. He looked at the monkey who looked back at him with concern on his small round face.

"Jack?"

Both the Sparrow and monkey glanced to the left, and the monkey pointed at the Sparrow making tones that resembled soft cries or whines and possibly both.

Barbossa knelt beside Jack, watching the tears drip slowly down the young man's face. He took the sleeve of his coat and removed the moisture from his face. "Dry these tears lad. There is no need for them."

"I have no family do I?" asked Jack.

"You have your father," said Barbossa.

"Why would I want my father if all my father does is hurt me?" asked Jack. "I wish I had a father like Will. I wish I was Will. Everyone loves him."

"Plenty of people in the world love ye Jack," said Barbossa.

Jack looked at him. "Who?"

"Me for one lad. I know ye and I haven't had the greatest past there could ever be, but I always kept an eye on ye like ye were my own son," said Barbossa.

"I'm so alone," Jack told him, burying his face between his knees.

Hearing soft sobs, Barbossa looked at 'Jack' for advice.

'Jack' scurried away, leaving his master alone.

Sighing heavily, Barbossa set his hand on Jack's back. "Yer not alone Jack. I'm here."

"Will hates me. He won't talk to me anymore. Bill glares at me and ignores me now. Alexander won't let me near Will. No one cares about me," said Jack.

Barbossa lifted Jack's head to, again, wipe the tears away with his sleeve. "If I didn't care about ye then why am I sitting beside ye telling ye yer not that alone. Jack, of everyone on board this ship, yer the last one to be alone."

"I wish my father didn't hate me," said Jack.

"Can I inquire why?" asked Barbossa.

"So I can be held like Will. I don't remember being held a lot. What I can remember, I remember being alone. That's all I've known in my life, being alone," Jack told him.

Sadly, Barbossa knew there was no use to fight that anymore. Instead, he wrapped an arm around Jack's back, pulling him closer. Jack leaning into him caused him to secure both arms tightly around Jack. Many, many things were learned in that moment: Jack craved love, he was absolutely tiny, covered by mere skin mostly, this was terrible for his healing head, and Hector Barbossa himself enjoyed holding Jack close to himself, for he loved Jack Sparrow from the moment he met him.

Feeling moisture against his chest, Barbossa tucked Jack's head beneath his jaw. He hushed the lost Sparrow. Jack brought his hand to Barbossa's chest to wrap an arm around him. Biting his lip, Barbossa made every attempt to hold back the tears formed over many, many years in his life. Knowing he had a hand in Jack's mishaps—realizing—admitting to himself he was the reason Jack became like this, he shook his head and pressed his cheek against Jack's head.

From the helm stairs, Bailey smiled softly. This was good. He wandered slowly down each step where 'Jack' looked at him with concern yet.

"Your father and cousin are just fine 'Jack'," he told the monkey.

'Jack' hopped on his shoulder and sat contently.

The ususals of Jack's crew slowly approached.

Bailey nodded gently with a small smile on his face.

They sighed in relief and continued with their duties of the day.

* * *

Since the _Black Pearl_ and his son were still asleep as normal humans, Bill silently left his little one's side with a parting of a kiss on the forehead. He quietly crossed the captain's cabin, softly chuckling at Alexander asleep on the chair, feet on the table and head tilted to his shoulder. He knew Alexander was going to regret that when he woke.

Quietly, he walked through the door on the other side of the great cabin and into the second master quarters. He heard about her from everyone and saw her before, but not with a clear mind. His perspective of the world was changed for the better.

Elizabeth lay on the cot with a single blanket to her chest. Steady breathing brought her chest to rise and fall.

Bill sat in the chair beside her. She hardly seemed as though she was in a coma. Rather, she seemed to simply sleep comfortably, however, he knew with the disappearing bruise above her left eye that it was not a simple sleep. Looking after her as his daughter, he gently cupped the back of her head to raise it for allowing water to gently pour into her mouth and trickle down her throat. After, he gently placed her on the cot.

Viewing her closer, he shook his head as he made for the window. Altogether, he disappeared from the ship. Moments later, he returned with a light pink satin nightgown and a cream silk nightgown, a comb, and a soft red robe. He locked the door temporarily to bathe Elizabeth then changed her into the pink nightgown. He then gently pulled the comb through her damp light brown hair. In appearance, she reminded him of Will's mother. Of what he knew of her from his little one and meeting her half minded, she was especially similar to Charlotte.

A gentle smile widened across his face as he gently laid her on the cot. He brushed the hair from her face.

Such a blood curling scream rang across the ocean, startling the near by _Black Pearl_.

Catching his breath, Bill shut his eyes. There was suddenly no breath inside of him as his mind located the scream: Jack and Will's cabin. He leapt from the cot, fumbled with the lock and swung the door open. In the attempt to rush to his son, he was stopped in the doorway by his own impulse.

Will was sitting against a few pillows. Jack Sparrow was in his arms, clinging to his best friend. His head was buried against Will's left shoulder and arms tightly around his neck. Both fright and sadness were in Will's eyes as he held Jack close.

Quite suddenly, Jack pulled away from Will to vomit in the basin beside Will's bed. Afterward, and breathing again, Jack fell against Will's body, burying his face in Will's shoulder further.

Feeling his best friend softly cry against him, Will wrapped his arms once again around Jack who grabbed his arms. He eventually tucked Jack's head beneath his jaw.

"It was just a nightmare," he whispered. "Everyone has them. I've had nightmares before too Jack. You'll be fine."

Jack's head shook from side to side.

Will's arms held tighter. "The Kraken is dead Jack. You saw it's carcass with your own eyes. All right? You are not going to fall down that tunnel again. Nothing is going to eat you. You'll never be that cold or wet or frightened or lost or alone again. You were just dreaming. It was just a nightmare. Nightmares cannot harm you." He set his palm on the back of Jack's head and rested his cheek on top of Jack's head. "Jack, look at me. Jack."

Slowly, Jack raised his pale, frightened face to look at Will. The horror and fright in Jack's eyes enhanced the hell he went through for that year.

Before he spoke, Will cupped Jacks face between both his palms. "Nothing is going to harm you. I promise."

Jack nodded, but once again buried his head into Will's chest, this time with a force that caused Will to bit his lip as his eyes lit in pain.

Shaking his head, Will looked to the doorway. A small smile widened across his face. "Jack, look at everyone standing right there. They are here because of your nightmare. None of them are going to let anything hurt you." Jack's head did not move from within Will's chest. "Jack, please, look at them. Trust me."

Pulling slowly from the safety of Will's chest, Jack wiped his eyes. He turned his head to peer over his shoulder.

Bill and Alexander stood side by side a mere pace into the room. Barbossa, Gibbs, Pintel, Ragetti, Marty, Cotton, and Bailey stood in the doorway looking at Jack.

They all did see a small comforted smile widen across Jack's face.

"All right, everyone out. Jack's fine. See, Will is here and the other two aren't going anywhere," said Barbossa, beginning to push them all out the door.

Alexander and Bill approached.

"Nightmare?" asked Bill softly. Jack nodded. "I have those too sometimes."

"Will says everyone has them," said Jack.

"Of course," said Bill.

"Where do nightmares come from?" wondered Jack.

"A nightmare is your mind showing you what you fear most," said Alexander.

"Or horrible events that you have once been through in the past," added Bill.

"Which 'in the past' literally translates to in the past," Will further added.

Jack looked between them all. "Then nightmares can't hurt me and they are normal?"

All three nodded.

"Are you hungry Jack?" asked Alexander.

"I'll bring food for the two of you too," said Jack as he began to push Alexander from the room.

Will looked at his father. "Ow."

"Oh, Will," whispered Bill as he helped his son lie on his back again.

"It's only a sore ow," said Will then added, "a sore _healing _ow."

"Good," said Bill, tucking the blanket around his son's legs and stomach.

Will grabbed his father's right arm suddenly. He pulled the sleeve further onto his arm, exposing the brand of a pirate and a tattoo spelling _my little one Will. _"When you are falling apart becoming human again, I'm having Uncle Alex remove this from your arm."

Bill tilted his head in doubt as he pointed to the brand. "This one Will."

"Yes, that one," said Will. He wrapped his fingers around his father's tattoo. "I don't want you removing this one."

"Never," said Bill. Feeling the beginning of a long awkward silence, he spoke to avoid it. "I'm just curious. Have you had nightmares about this little adventure of yours?"

"I'm still living the nightmare of this little adventure of mine father," replied Will.

"Right," said Bill.

"What was that question for?" wondered Will curiously.

"I'm just being an overprotective father," replied Bill as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"And this is me being a curious son," began Will, gently pushing himself into a slight sitting upright position. "What do you fear most?"

"Why the want to know?" wondered Bill with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm curious," replied Will.

Understandably, Bill nodded. His eyes searched around the room for a small explanation for his answer. What did he fear most? What indeed. He knew what he feared most. Deep in his heart, it was the only fear that would never cease and no overcoming or avoiding his fear was possible. He turned back to Will, speaking softly.

"The dark."

"The dark?" asked Will slowly. "You are afraid of the dark?"

Bill gave a gentle nod of his head. "Always."

"Never imagined you to fear the dark," said Will as he turned from his father knowing the expression on his face was unbelievable. He thought on that little fear of his father's, suddenly understanding. "All your life all you have known is the dark. I thought you to have been used to the dark, but all you've known is darkness. There has been enough darkness in your life to make you fear it."

"Precisely," whispered Bill. "And every wrongful happening in my pitiful little life occurred in the dark."

"Understandable," said Will.

"And your little fear?" wondered Bill.

"Like your fear, mine grew over time. This past year especially causing it to grow further," said Will. He shrugged his shoulders as best as he could. "I fear being alone."

Bill's eyebrows rose in sadness as his mouth dropped. He sat beside his child and wrapped his arms around him best he could.

Sighing gently, Will shut his eyes and leaned his head against his father's heart, listening to the soft beating.

"You will never be alone Will. I promise," whispered Bill.

Will nodded. "The past year has been so cold and dark and lonely. All I've known since I was nine is the feeling of being alone. When I finally had someone in my life all this happened and I still can't have her. With the crew, I still feel alone. I feel nothing more than loneliness. I wish you didn't have to leave. I wish none of this happened."

The father gently hushed his son as the little one softly cried into his father's chest.

Although his son was crying, Bill Turner smiled. As a father, he was here with his child. For the first time in many, many years, he was there for his son. Feeling the moisture on his skin, he pulled Will further in his arms. Tears of joy came to him. This was _his_ child he was holding. He was a father after all.

"Not good," Jack's voice announced as he wandered into the room again.

"He's all right Jack. He's just in need of his father," said Bill.

Jack nodded. He slowly approached the two of them. "I have warm ham sandwiches for you Will."

"Thank you Jack," said Will as pushed slowly away from his father. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve then gladly took one of the warm sandwiches.

"Are you all right?" wondered Jack.

"I'm fine. I needed to do that," said Will.

"You needed to cry," said Jack, his voice clearly confused.

"From personal experiences in my life I know it is better to release emotion and feeling rather than keep it built inside of me," Will told him.

Jack nodded. He began to nibble on the sandwich himself. "Can you and I do something today?"

"What do you want to do?" asked Will.

"I dunno," replied Jack with a shrug. He glanced around the room then plainly began searching. "Where is your father?"

"Right here," said Will as he turned his head to his right only to discover his father missing. "Well, he was sitting right here."

"I have the feeling he was always like this; one minute there and then he was gone," noted Jack. He mouth scrunched to the right side of his face and he shrugged dramatically. "Oh well. He wouldn't leave you without saying goodbye."

"Do you want to play a game?" asked Will.

"Game?" wondered Jack.

"Do you know what a game is?" wondered Will.

"No," said Jack, ashamed to admit so with the expression on Will's face.

"Find two cups and twelve dice," said Will.

"Um," Jack spoke, seeming to himself as he slumped and gazed around the room.

"Tell Barbossa I'm going to teach you Liar's Dice," said Will.

Jack's face lit as he pointed at Will. "That I can do!" he announced as he left.

Will wrapped a light blanket around his arms and torso. Curious however, he lifted the hem of his tunic to his waist. Expecting it, yet surprised, he found his belly bandaged. Over the white bandaging, was a blue dyed colored sash.

"Father," he whispered to himself.

Hearing the laughter of Jack and his uncle, he raised his head from his wound.

"Will, I'm disappointed in you," said Alexander.

"What did I do?" asked Will, his eyes searching for an answer.

"You didn't invite me to play your little game," replied Alexander. "You can't play Liar's Dice with two people."

Will smiled to himself. "Yes you can. Inquire to my father about my round of Liar's Dice with the Devil."

"You mean to say you and Jones played a round?" wondered Alexander, curious.

"And I won thank you," said Will, proudly. He shrugged his shoulders as his pride vanished. "I won one round at least, which is more than several sailors can say."

"Okay, how do we play?" asked Jack, practically jumping on the cot in front of Will. Enthusiasm and excitement rang in his voice and eyes.

Will looked into Jack's warm, chocolate eyes seeking twinkling stars coming from them. He never saw Jack's eyes twinkle like that. Not even looking at Elizabeth did his eyes twinkle. Honestly, he didn't know Jack's eyes could appear reminiscent of stars.

"You know how to add numbers yes?" wondered Will.

"As Hector told me I'm not horrible at it but I'm not good at it either," said Jack.

"Do you need help with numbers then?" asked Will.

Jack slumped. His head tucked into his body as a sea turtle would do when hiding in the safety of his shell. Below him, in his lap, his thumbs twiddled about. Warm blood rushed to his face in shame.

"Jack, it's fine," said Will, setting his fingertips on Jack's twiddling thumbs. "Not a lot of people are good at numbers. I am so I can teach you. This game is just what you need then."

"Are you good with numbers?" Jack asked Alexander.

Nodding his head with a ridiculous expression of his mind looking back to his schooling days on his face, Alexander nodded. "I am a noble Jack. I am required to know my numbers."

"Alex, help him with his adding and I'll do the teaching," said Will, handing Jack a mug with five dice. "Shake the cup and turn it over like this."

Jack watched Will and did the same. "Is this it?" he asked.

"Look under your cup, but don't let me see it," Will told him.

"Why can't you see it?" wondered Jack.

"It's a game. The objective of the game is to guess how many of a certain number of dice the other person has of all five numbers on the die," explained Will.

Both Jack and Alexander exchanged glances toward each other then looked at Will rather oddly.

"What does he mean?" whispered Jack to Alexander.

"I have no idea," said Alexander.

"Alex, point out what I mean," said Will.

"All right," said Alexander. He took a die from his cup that was unused in this round. "These dots indicate the value on this face. You do know what these numbers are yes?"

"One, two, three, four, five, and six," replied Jack with a nod of his head.

"These six dice here can have any one of those numbers face up," said Alexander. He shook the cup then set the cup down to show Jack what he meant. "How many faces of the dice look the same?"

Jack looked over the six dice and organized them by face value. "There is a six, two fours, one five, and a three."

"Under my cup I have five different faces showing," Will said, continuing the lesson.

"Now, the idea of the game is to guess the total number of similar face numbers between the numbers of other people playing. You Jack, can guess only the face numbers you have in your cup, but not at once," said Alexander. "Do you understand?"

"I think so," replied Jack slowly.

"However, there is a catch," added Will. "You have to guess a higher quantity of dice or higher number on the face of the dice."

"Explain better William," snapped Jack, his eyes widening and head tilting to the side, resembling the Jack Sparrow everyone knew. "Really."

"All right," said Will. "Say I bid two fives. Upon using quantity, you would say three fives. Going from two to three is increasing the quantity of numbers of dice with the same number on their face. Understand quantity?"

"I think," said Jack.

"Okay, Jack, should I say four threes what then must you do?" asked Alexander.

"Then I would say something higher than four," Jack told them slowly.

"And what is higher than four?" asked Alexander.

Jack counted the numbers on his fingers. "One. Two. Three. Four. Oh, five."

"And then Will can say six fours and you seven fours until you run out of dice. You run out of dice when you reach the number of dice you are playing with. You have six dice and Will has six dice. How many dice are there between the two of you?" said Alexander.

"Six," said Jack pointing to himself and then pointed at Will. "Six. Add them?" Both Will and Alexander nodded. "Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten?" He mouth widened a bit as his eyes narrowed. "One one? One two?"

"Eleven and twelve," said Will.

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve," said Jack. He nodded then turned to Alexander with a large grin. "Twelve then."

"Yes, there are ten dice total," said Alexander.

"Oh," said Jack then smiled wide. "That's easy. Count up by number until ten, eleven, twelve. Got it."

"But remember, not all the dice will have a four on them," added Will.

"I know," said Jack. "Can we play now?"

"Not quite. I need to teach you about number on the dice," said Will. "Sometimes it's impossible to increase the quantity of dice, so you can increase by the number on the dice. If I bid one two, in this instance you will bid one three. Because you and I are increasing the number of dots on the dice, you don't have to increase the quantity of the dice. If I say two ones then what are you going to bid?"

"Two twos?" asked Jack.

"Yep," said Will.

"Can you increase the number on the dice and the number of dice?" wondered Jack.

"Absolutely," Will told him. "Remember, you must always increase. You can't reduce the quantity of dice or the number on the dice. Which means you can't play going from two fours to one four in terms of quantity. The matter of number on dice it isn't correct to go from five fours to six threes. You certainly cannot go from six twos to five ones."

"And when you think Will isn't telling the truth then you shout liar at him," added Alexander.

"Understand?" asked Will.

"I think I'll understand better when we play," said Jack.

"Then shake the dice in your cup and flip it upside down and let's play," said Will.

Jack nodded and shook his cup, but forgot one thing. As soon as he shook the cup, the dice flew all over the room and the three of them watched it.

Alexander, Will, and Jack looked at each other and shrugged while sharing a laugh between them.

Now with his hand over the mouth of the cup, Jack shook and slammed the cup down.

"Peek under the cup and count the number of similar faces," said Will.

Three fives, one six, one two. Jack nodded. "There's—".

Alexander clamped his palm over Jack's mouth. "Shh. Jack, you're not supposed to tell him. He is also supposed to guess how many there are."

Understanding, Jack nodded. He pulled Alexander's hand from his mouth and sucked in his lips. This was one rule he would never forget again.

"Three fours," said Will.

"But I don't have any fours," said Jack.

"Then you bid another number," said Will.

"Alex, help," said Jack, looking quite distressed indeed.

"Bid on the fives," Alexander whispered in Jack's ear.

"Three fives," announced Jack.

"Four fives," said Will.

"Five fives?" asked Jack, looking at Alexander. Alexander nodded. "Five fives then."

"Five sixes," Will announced.

"Six sixes, I think," said Jack, once again looking at Alexander.

"Call him a liar," Alexander whispered.

"But he's not a liar," Jack told him quietly.

"It's a game Jack. It is perfectly acceptable to call someone a liar in this game," said Alexander.

"Liar," Jack said uncertainly.

"Okay, now, because you challenged me we both must reveal the dice we have under our cups," said Will. He moved his cup from the way of the dice exposing four sixes and a single four. Will piled all five sixes in the center of the cot. "How many sixes are there?"

Jack's finger counted over each one. "Five sixes." He gasped and looked at Will incredibly. "How did you know?"

"I didn't. I was guessing," said Will. "And because I guessed the correct number of dice you didn't win this round."

"Win?" wondered Jack.

"It means you weren't the one to have the correct guess and so you lost to the other person. In this round he played better than you did," said Alexander.

"That's cheating. He's your nephew. You told me to call him a liar on purpose so you could let him win," shouted Jack. "You cheated."

"What's all this ruckus about?" Bill Turner's voice inquired as he entered the room with Barbossa, each one holding the handle of a large chest.

"Alexander cheated and helped Will win," said Jack, pointing at Alexander.

"Jack, did I know what the numbers were on Will's dice if I never saw them?" asked Alexander.

"I didn't, but somehow you did," said Jack.

"How?" wondered Alexander.

"I don't know. You just did," Jack said, insisting that Alexander was indeed a great cheat.

"How?" Alexander asked one more time.

"I don't know," said Jack, unfolding his arms and looking at Alexander with question on his face.

"Ah, Liar's Dice," said Bill. He looked at Barbossa. "A round with my family?"

"Aye, that be something worth betting against," said Barbossa.

"Where were you?" wondered Will.

"I'll show you when we are done playing this round," said Bill.

"What we be playing against?" wondered Barbossa.

"The person who loses attends his duties unclothed from sunup to sundown," said Will.

"No," said Bill immediately. "Some of us are leaving soon, one of us does nothing but lay in bed, another is uncomfortable about his body, and the last one doesn't want to scar the crew's eyes for life."

Jack glanced at their expressions and a part smile widened across his face. Will looked disappointed, Bill looked at his little one shaking his head at his young mind, relief evenly spread across Alexander's face, and Barbossa seemed unpleased at Bill by the glare on his face. "Why don't you just play for money?"

"None of us have money on us right now Jack," said Barbossa.

"You can repay the winner later," said Jack.

"Then some of us don't have entire vaults piled with gold to dispose at our every desire," said Barbossa. "You three Seastones."

"Two of us haven't been home to receive the money," said Bill.

"Actually you do," said Alexander. Will and Bill looked at him. "Father continues to add money to your accounts with the shares you would receive were you home. William, if you were never to return home then your money would now be Will's, as father intended to give it to Will on his twenty first birthday had he been home. Will, if you never came home then the money would go to your father. Should neither of you two return home then your money would be given to your brother Gabriel and yours would go to your cousin Dirk." They looked at him incredulously. "Father and I always believe the two of you would return home one day. And as for our terms, loser has to buy lunch for the other three when we arrive in London at his own time of choosing."

"Agreed," stated the other three.

"Jack, watch and learn," said Will, quite happily taking his cup into hand.

All four shook and slammed the cups down upon the little board in the center of the cot. They watched as Jack went around all four of them to inspect their numbers.

"Am I not supposed to do that?" he asked.

"Don't tell us who has what and it's all right I suppose," said Alexander.

"I won't tell _you_ but I will tell Will," said Jack. "I still say you cheated."

Will shook his head and chuckled. "I bid five twos."

"I'll raise ye to five threes," said Barbossa.

Alexander looked beneath his cup. He looked thoughtful at the crowd around him. "Hm. What to bid, what to bid." He peeked under his cup again. "I reckon we move onto seven fives."

"Eight fives," said Bill confidently.

Will looked at them. He looked under his cup. "Jack what do you think I should do?"

Jack leaned to Will's level to look at the dice. His fingers counted two twos and three sixes. "I, for Will, say eight sixes."

"Very well, eleven sixes," said Alexander with a smile.

"Liar," said Bill casually. "You could never lie Alex. Ever."

"Okay, cups up," announced Jack. "Lets see who wins."

"Jack, you count them all," said Will.

"Right," said Jack.

Bill groaned to himself as he slumped further on the cot.

Alexander looked at him and smiled huge. "Can't lie huh?"

"Okay, there are two twos. Two threes. Four fives. Twelve sixes," said Jack. He looked at Will oddly. "Why are there no fours or ones?"

"That's just the game Jack," replied Will.

"Then who won?" asked Jack curiously.

"Alexander Seastone," announced Alexander proudly. "And my big brother owes us all lunch."

"I'll make a deal with you Alexander Seastone," began Bill. "Instead of buying all of you lunch, what do you say to me cooking all of you dinner?"

"Uh uh," said Alexander. "You're buying it."

Bill raised his shoulders and looked at Alexander. "So, then you don't want to begin with warm rye bread and jam with a delicious potato soup as your little appetizer? And for main course turkey cooked rotisserie style while glazing in my father's cherry honey sauce, red wine picked fresh that day, warm biscuits, good steamed winter vegetables, more potato soup to dip either the turkey or biscuits, and perhaps chicken cooked all day, slowly, in nothing but ale? Turkey and chicken, of course, I'll make into two courses with the chicken last I believe for further enhancing the ale flavoring. Ah, and for dessert I think I'll make my father's rum cake and fresh cream to pour on top. I'll throw in a good dessert wine. After we're done with my meal then how about we sit in the parlor sipping tea to settle our full bellies?" He shrugged. "Never mind, I'll just buy lunch."

"Uh uh," said Alexander immediately. "You're making me dinner."

"I didn't know you could cook," admitted Will.

"William," said Alexander. He pointed at Bill. "Your father made us this meal once."

"Actually, I made it for Charlotte and I," corrected Bill. "You ate the scraps we didn't finish."

"I don't care. The scraps were just as delicious," said Alexander. He leaned back in the chair. "I miss your cooking big brother. We all miss your cooking."

"I didn't know you could cook," Will said to himself.

"Well, Gabriel and I can cook," said Bill. "He makes the sauces and glazes while I cook the food. It's a collaborative effort between us. Gabe combines spices and flavors brilliantly. I've always timing perfect on preparing meats cooked through and not dry. You'll come to see when Gabe and I are in the kitchens the entire staff of the manor patiently awaits the arrival of dinner. I used to cook for your mother all the time."

Will looked at Alexander sadly and disappointed. "You never told me he did that."

"Well, neither did your mother," said Alexander.

"William, I knew yer father could cook," said Barbossa. "He prepare the most delicious meal for himself, Jackie, I, and Edward. I have yet to find someone who cooks better than yer father."

"I really don't know you at all do it?" Will asked his father.

Bill scoot closer to Will. He wrapped an arm around his son's shoulders and pulled him close. "I don't exactly know much about you either little one. I know less of you than you do of me." As Will turned away, he leaned forward to kiss his son's cheek and wrap the other arm around him. "You and I will have plenty of time to talk to each other. When I am recovering as my mortality returns, you and I will waste away the days talking with each other." He kissed Will's cheek again. "I promise."

"Are you one to keep your promises?" wondered Will.

"Usually," said Bill. He brushed his fingers across the chain hanging from Will's neck. "I have something for you little one, something you haven't seen for years and years."

"Really?" Will asked, curious.

Bill Turner nodded. He scoot off of the cot and knelt in front of the chest he and Barbossa set in the corner of the room. Rummaging through, he whistled a tune very familiar to Will. "Ah, here it is."

Will's face became lost of color as his breathing ceased with a gasp. His mouth and eyes widened. Blinking was not necessary. He gazed at the little cloth parrot in his father's grasp. The parrot was set in his lap. Memories of himself being four and five and six flashed through his mind. This parrot was made by his mother after his father carved and painted a scarlet parrot. After his father left, his mother stitched pieces of bright red cloth together, forming a parrot and stuffed him with plenty of sheep wool. Through the love of a child, the parrot became tattered, stained, faded, stitched, and patched.

"Teachy," he whispered, cradling the parrot close to his face. He inhaled deeply. A smile widened across his face. "I remember the day Mum presented me with Teachy. He was perfectly healed as she told me. As a child, I thought she cleaned this parrot and patched him up. Then, one day, I found this parrot back on my bed with a note: _Don't let your mother find out you have him. She wants to dispose of him. This is your Teachy, the one she made after the carving your father gave to you. Keep him safe and hidden from her, but continue loving him as I love you. Uncle Alexander the Great_. I kept him wrapped in a small blanket on the top left corner of my toy chest with toys buried around him." He cuddled the parrot against his chest, suddenly becoming three years old again. His eyes opened as he turned to his father with confusion. "This was at home."

"I know," replied Bill.

"You went home?" wondered Will, incredulous.

"You can do that?" asked Alexander.

"Our small lake is fed by the stream which is fed by the Thames that flows from the Channel where it eventually spills into the ocean," explained Bill. "If even there is a single droplet of seawater it is enough. I can travel over any water containing sea water. Aye, I can go home."

Alexander sat on the cot beside his brother. Wonder and envy sparkled in his eyes. Chills traveled his bones. Warming his chilling body, he wrapped his hands around his arms. "What is home like?"

"Different than I remember, however that was twenty years ago," said Bill. "Oh, I have something for you little brother. I found this draped across a chair in your room beside your bed. It's more beautiful than any description you have ever given to any of us."

Breathing heavily in the attempt to continue his breath, Alexander's heart thundered in his chest, rushing hot blood through his body. He watched his elder brother reach into the open chest. Breathing became a task hardly simple to continue.

He saw as his brother brought fourth what appeared to be a black colored coat. As the coat was brought closer to him, the color became a rich, deep violet. The buttons lining the coat and cuffs were silver. A star resembling Polaris was etched into each one. The two pockets on the outside of the coat were abnormally larger than that of a normal coat. Inside the coat were two more pockets, an unusual request for a coat, and, quite simply, uncommon. Over his brother's arm, the coat itself showed the quality of being longer than normal as well.

"When I was a child, you described to me a coat you always wanted," began Will, looking at Alexander. He pointed to the coat. "Would this be it?"

Alexander nodded. He slowly stood.

A small smile on his face, Bill held the coat open for his brother to slip his arms through. Once Alexander's arms were through the sleeves, he slipped the coat up and around Alexander, holding his brother from behind as he did so.

"You look good Alex," he whispered.

"Can I have that coat?" Jack quietly asked Will.

Will shook his head, looking at Alexander with admiration.

"There was also a large, black dog sitting in the hall upstairs Alex," said Bill.

"How large?" asked Alexander, slowly and eyes slowly widening.

"I believe the breed is named after new-found-land in the West," said Bill.

Alexander gasped as his eyes widened. He stretched his arms out wide across his chest then a hand, palm down, at his hips. "That big of a dog?" Bill nodded. "Papa got me another Newfoundland! He swore he would never get another one of those. He was apparently too huge for the house and he shed like mad in the summer. All his Persian rugs were covered with black fur that never ended. We often joked that Polaris bred puppies by the amount of fur he shed at once. He saved my life. Papa bought him for me after I woke. I was giving up on life and he always promised me that before I died he would allow me to have one dog. I got my dog. It took me being tortured and being told that I was going to be paralyzed for the rest of my life and me not eating or drinking for him to get me a dog and now purchases a dog—" His eyes went narrow and lip seemed to curl and purse all in one. "He's trying to buy me back." He removed the coat from his back and dropped it in his brother's back. "For you big brother. If you'll excuse me, I'm going on deck for some fresh air before I begin screaming in here with you Will because I know that won't feel very well with your body already hurting."

Will watched him leave and the door slam. He turned to his father. "Do you happen to know what he means when he said tortured and paralyzed and not eating and drinking?"

"Yes," replied Bill slowly.

"And?" wondered Will.

"I should tell you but I'm not sure I want to without him knowing," replied Bill.

"Why?" asked Will. "He hasn't explained anything to me yet and you know something I don't so it would be appreciated if you tell me."

"I'll be back little one," said Bill. He kissed his son's head then walked from the room. "Alex."

Alexander was standing behind the window in the great cabin looking into the empty ocean. He was clutching his arms. From where his brother was standing, it was not difficult at all to see the tears gently rolling from his eyes. Arms wrapping around him from behind startled him from his dark thoughts of the past. He grabbed his brother's arm and leaned his head back into him.

"I don't know what to do with him," he whispered.

"You need to tell him," said Bill.

"How?" asked Alexander. "I cannot tell myself what happened those many years ago."

Bill lowered his head into his brother's head. The soft, short golden curls on his cheek brought a smile on his face. "You don't have to tell him Alex, and I can make your return home simpler on you."

Alexander turned his body to face his brother.

Before allowing him to speak, Bill shook his head with a sad smile. He sat his brother on the table and wiped away the tears. He set his hands on Alexander's shoulders. "For only being thirty one to your forty three I'm still a better big brother than you."

Alexander managed to laugh once as he wiped his eyes further. "How can my return home be simpler and how am I supposed to tell Will about my past?"

"I was home, you know this," began Bill. Alexander nodded his head in understanding. "While I was running across the halls before anyone saw me, I took quite a few things more than I should have. There is another chest on this ship. Said chest contains journals written in the hand of Bill Turner, Gabriel Turner, Christian O'Neal, Alexander Seastone, and Richard Seastone."

Eyes wide with disbelief, Alexander turned to his brother then away. "How did you find them?"

"I have my sources being Jack's wonderful compass that points to what ever it is I want most," replied Bill. "With your permission Alex, I want to give Will the journals."

"I don't have a choice as to whether you give him the journals or not," said Alexander. His head tilted to the side. "My father's journals?"

Bill nodded his head. The only way Will is going to understand is if he reads his grandfather's journals before he reads yours Alex." He leaned closer to his brother. "I think you should read his journals too little brother."

Alexander swallowed hard. "If he knows that I have read his journals I think he will kill me."

"He doesn't have to know," said Bill.

"He'll know," said Alexander. "I know he will."

"What are you so afraid of Alex? What is it you fear he is going to do to you?" wondered Bill.

Only Alex's eyes turned to his brother. His eyebrows high in fear and rich brown eyes beginning to moisten, fear was the only thing on his face. "You know exactly what he will do to me."

"Alex, how long have you been away from home really? I doubt you have only been away for a year," said Bill, an eyebrow raised.

"Three years," replied Alexander softly.

"You've been gone how long?" asked Bill, grabbing Alexander's arms and shoving him against the window.

"Three years," Alexander once again replied.

"I think three years away from your father and family things have changed," said Bill.

Alexander tucked from under his brother's arms as he pulled out of them. "He's trying to win me back. I can't count the number of times he's nearly killed me it has been so much. I'm not going home ever again. I intend to see Will safely back in London and them I'm going to give my crew a choice; either they can come sailing with me forever and allow the wind to take us where it wills or they can return to their families. I'm not going home."

"All right then Alex, you run like you always have. I'll just have to ask Will to tell Ewan to heal me when the time comes although I would prefer it to be you little brother," said Bill.

"I don't know what to do William," admitted Alexander. "There has been too much in my past to easily forgive him as all of you seem to think it is."

"You'll never know unless you try Alex," said Bill. Alexander nodded. "Come, we should go back to Will. You tell him about the journals and give him the option."

Alexander nodded. Once his older brother's arm went around him, he felt more relieved than he was before. It may be more worth returning home and staying home to be with his older brother. Everything was perfect and painless when big brother was there to watch him.

Raising his head, he saw his nephew sitting up talking with Jack. Nodding more firmly and confident than he did before, he knew Will was reason enough to return home.

"Little Will," he found himself saying aloud. "There is a lot I must tell you."

Will nodded. "I know."

"I can't tell you per se, but I can have you read it," added Alexander.

"Enlighten me," said Will.

"Your father returned home and with his return to this ship he brought with him a few personal items of mine and my father's, including our personal journals. I want you to read my father's then mine," Alexander explained.

"After I finish a certain set of journals I am currently reading now," said Will.

"When you want the journals simply tell me and I will certainly give them to you," said Alexander.

Will nodded his head. "Can I get out of bed?"

"How are you feeling right now?" asked Alexander.

"I'm sitting up aren't I? I'm not dying from the pain am I?" Will asked right back at him.

Alexander looked at his older brother. "What do you think?"

"If he has the strength to sit upright then he has the strength to walk on deck where he will sit in the sun with me," said Bill.

"Then getting up it is today little Will," said Alexander. "I'll prepare a few things for you before you go on getting up."

Will looked at his father and Jack, glowing in the eyes. Finally, a sign that he was going to get better. No longer was he forced to stay in bed reading journals, although learning about Jack was something he enjoyed very, very much.

"I'll find the best place for you to sit on deck, the most sunniest of places that is, I think I'll find," announced Jack as he hopped from the cot and rushed out the door.

Will shook his head with a half smile spread far across the left side of his face. The arm that went around his shoulder hinted toward it was time to do this. He nodded and looked at them with a smile.

"Where are my clothes?" he asked simply.

"Hm? Oh," said Alexander.

"I'll get them Alexander," said Bill.

Once again, he returned to the chest at the corner of the room. "Here, these were mine when I was your age. I think I was close to your size."

Beneath the blankets, Will slipped the trousers onto his body. His eyes narrowed in wonder. He looked at his father. "What did you do with these silk trousers?"

Alexander looked at his brother with a raised eyebrow. "William, really."

"What color?" asked Bill.

Will peeked under the blanket. "Chocolate brown."

"Sleep," replied Bill. "For the record Will, keep away from any black, blue, and red silk among my clothes."

"C'mon Billy, tell your little one what you do in those silk trousers," said Alexander while chuckling.

"I think I'd rather not know what you and mum did while wearing silk," said Will, his cheeks flushing bright red as ides flew through his mind.

"Use your imagination," said Bill.

"I'm trying not to," said Will as he pushed the blankets away from his person.

"Well," began Alexander, approaching him. "You were the one who didn't have to watch it, so please, use your imagination."

Will shook his head. "I would rather not do that."

"And since you are getting up today, I thought I could wrap your torso in a thicker cloth."

"I can hardly contain my excitement for less movement," said Will, the nature of his sarcastic tone causing Alexander to roll his eyes.

Bill kept his son's torso upright by keeping his hands beneath his arms and pulling up. He came across the expressions of pain continuously passing across his little one's face.

Will inhaled deeply and sucked in his lips. His eyes slowly shut. Unbeknownst to him, his father and uncle saw his fingers bunch handfuls of blanket into his palm. "Why does this hurt so much?"

"You are sitting up straight therefore everything is stretching," said Alexander. He wound the cloth around Will's belly. Pulling it tighter on the left side caused pressure on the right side, pressure causing Will to bite his lip and shut his eyes. Alexander looked at him then returned to the task at hand. "And pressure on a wound already quite sensitive to everything coming in contact with it does not provide assistance."

"You have no idea how much this hurts do you?" asked Will.

"Actually, William Turner the Second, I think you have no idea what pain I myself have been through," said Alexander. "Your father can testify my defense."

"Before you open your mouth little one, you truly do not have enough years or wisdom to understand your uncle's pain," explained Bill. "I was there for several years worth of it. Should you have the desire to know the pain Alexander has been through, kindly ask him and not me, for I do no wish to put up with his whining about it further."

Alexander sat back, away from Will. "There, now that wasn't so bad was it?"

Without looking down, Will rolled his eyes at them. "Do you have any other color to wrap my torso with? I have a slight hate for the color white."

"Blue, red, green, yellow, pink?" wondered Bill.

Alexander and Will looked at him oddly.

"Pink? Why would he want pink?" inquired Alexander.

"I don't suppose you have any cloth the color of red wine in that chest over there?" asked Will.

Bill raised a finger as he gently removed himself from the cot Will was sitting on. He pressed his lips on Will's forehead before moving a loose curl. "I'll be right back."

The two normal humans' eyes followed his person until he disappeared through the glass window and was no more.

"I wish I could do that. Disappearing from one place and appearing in another part of the marine world would come quite to my use," said Alexander.

"You can do that you know; all one needs to do is acquire death's hand while in front of the captain of the _Flying Dutchman_. With Edward Teague at her helm I am quite positive that shouldn't be too difficult for you to do," Will told him.

Alexander raised his eyebrows as he shook his head. "No thank you. I've had quite enough adventures with the captain of the _Dutchman_ to last me several lifetimes. I do believe I knew Davy Jones better than your father Will."

"I hardly believe that," replied Will.

"Even hardly there is still belief," said Alexander.

Will looked at him then away. Curiosity was now in his mind. Why did his uncle believe he knew Davy Jones better than his father. He looked at Alexander with a smile on his face. "Uncle Alex, you do want to tell me the answer to my question don't you?"

"Depends on the question," replied Alexander.

"Why do you believe you knew Jones better than my father?"

"That is for me to know and you to never discover the answer," Alexander told him. "Ah, your father is back."

"Is this the color you are referring to little one?" wondered Bill, presenting a bundle of cloth in his hand.

Studying the cloth, Will smiled. The color was a wine glass sitting in the sunlight with rich red wine swirling in the middle. "Aye, that is the color."

Alexander reached for the colored cloth.

Bill, quickly sat beside Will and unfolded the cloth. "I'll do it little brother. I think you have caused Will enough pain for a while."

"That pain saved your 'little one' William. May I remind you of that," said Alexander. "Well, since you two do not need my services any longer, I shall inspect the cleanliness of deck to ensure that nothing on you will get infected."

"Again," added Will with a half smile.

Nodding his head, Alexander walked out the door into the main cabin. He shook his head. Only his brother and his overprotective protectiveness, as once was described about his brother's relationship with Will. What went wrong? To this day, he continued to ask that question. It seemed once his brother never returned his own life became a living hell.

Wrapping his hands around his arms, he walked to the window. Standing there in the sunlight, he made out the image of the _Star of Madagascar_ in the horizon, another reminder he was returning to England. Returning home was yet to be a decided decision. Home was somewhere it shouldn't be. Home was on his ship with the man he thought to be his older brother.

The lonely young man walked across the cabin to lean against the wall separating the room from main deck. Closer than the _Star_, the _Trojan Horse_, his very home and ship, sailed close to them. On that ship was the only man that seemed to love him and understand him. He and Christian went though everything together. He knew Christian for as long as he had known Will.

"Will, there is so much you don't know about me," he whispered to himself.

"Such as?" Will's voice asked from behind him.

Alexander turned his head. A grinning smile widened across his face. Dressed in the blue robe and silk trousers, Will stood behind him. The wine cloth that covered the bandages presented a gentle glow toward Will. He stepped forward to gently wrap his fingers around Will's arms. Silently laughing to himself, Alexander wrapped his arms wholly around his nephew's body.

"I feel, four weeks later, that I finally have you," he said.

"I know the feeling," admitted Will. He immediately pulled away. "Four weeks?"

"Near of," added Bill.

Will whipped his body toward his father. "A month after Edward is through ferrying souls then I have you?"

"By all right I should be with Eddy at this very moment," said Bill. His sapphire eyes lowered and turned from them. "I admit have been telling a few tall tales to Edward in the manor of you dying and in such pain that you I cannot leave you."

An eyebrow on Will's forehead raised as his lips pursed. His head tilted to the side. "Dying? Do I look like I am dying? In such pain you cannot leave me? I admit I am in pain, but not enough to keep you from doing what you must."

"William," began Bill, he set his palm on Will's shoulder. "When you are a father, one day, you too will understand these words I speak now."

"If," corrected Will, silently, his eyes locked upon the door leading to his sleeping bride.

"When," said Alexander. "As a physician and surgeon, I say since she has survived this long she will survive until she awakens."

"What is the difference anyhow? I never asked that of you when I was a child?" wondered Will.

Alexander sighed with a roll of his eyes clearly indicating the amount of times he explained. "A surgeon performs the process of mending bones and surgery. The physicians of the world create and distribute medicines as well as grow them. I myself am both."

"How did you manage that?" wondered Will.

"I trained myself in both," said Alexander.

"You taught yourself everything?" asked Will.

"No," began Alexander, the tone in his voice clearly indicating he was thinking of how to explain it.

Bill stepped in, explaining the beginning. "Will, he began when he mended my back."

"I've heard the story from Gabe," said Will. "Perhaps you can tell me the whole story?"

"Another time," Bill told him. Will opened his mouth to protest. "William, another time."

Accepting his father's request, as any son should do, Will nodded. Disappoint lowered his eyes. He looked out the cabin doors at the world on deck.

Forgetting what it was like to be on deck again, his feet, step by step, reintroduced him to the ship. The people he had come to call his friends sat around in the sun enjoying the sea air. A colorful blur whipped past him. Curious, he stood by the helm railing.

Jack Sparrow released his arms, dropping the pillows and blankets on a pile of layered pillows and blankets right against mainmast. He propped the pillows against the mast and laid the blankets over the pillows he had lying on deck. Dramatically, he flopped into the pillows. Apparently not satisfied, he stood and smooshed the pillows down and moved them in the center of the pile. Repeating his dramatic flop into them, he acquired a few odd looks. Seeming satisfied this time, he gave a very sharp nod of approval.

**-)(-**

_Liam's persistent tugging on Jack's arm made me realized he wanted to share something himself. I turned my attention to the little lad. "Liam, would you like to say something?"_

_Liam nodded his head. He pointed to himself. "I 'moosh piwows ever'night too. 'Moosh like athair."_

"_I smoosh my piwows at nigh' too," said James._

"_Me too," agree Joceline._

"_All right, it is established we all 'moosh our pillows at night," said Thomas, rolling his teenage eyes at them. "Can we continue with the story?"_

"_Pleas!," Felicity cried out of her excitement._

"_For being teenagers, you two are intrigued about this aren't you?" I asked._

"_Excuse me, we may have lived it but we were too young to understand. I barely understood what was happening," said Felicity._

"_And somebody," began Thomas, narrowing his eyes on Alexander. "Won't tell us anything."_

_Alex raised his palms and turned away. He waves his palms back and forth. "I don't speak of that time in my life. I'm not proud of it nor do I enjoy being reminded of it."_

"_Then you didn't enjoy us?" Christian's voice asked from behind me._

_I turned my head and looked at him and Josephine oddly. "When did you two get in here?"_

"_Somewhere's around your father threatening to kill my Alex for smacking his hand when he was about to look at your stomach," replied Christian._

"_I'm not your Alex anymore," my uncle reminded._

_Thomas pointed at his father. "I want to hear more about that. I didn't even know that relationship was possible. I thought it was male to female not male to male." He looked at his father. "So how was it?"_

_Alexander's eyes narrowed and lips pursed. An eyebrow raised. "Thomas," he said quickly, as he always did when he was advising a matter not to be pressed further._

_Nodding his head, Thomas looked away. _

_I silently laughed to myself. "How about I continue so I can explain that?"_

"_I like that idea," Jack said. He leaned into his father more, knowing where the tale's direction was heading._

_Anyway, Jack yelped and rushed to the place I was standing. He wrapped his arms around me only to drag me onto the nest of pillows established "Will's warm, sunny spot", and was established so with a note nailed to the mast. Unfortunately, I did admit it was quite a pleasant warm sunny spot._

**-)(-**

Will's moment of peace with his eyes closed in the sun was not to last very long, as Jack wasn't the only soul who was incredulous of seeing him alive, sitting in the sun.

A forefinger tapped his shoulder. "Mm hm?"

"Can I do something?" Ragetti's hesitant voice asked.

"As long as I don't have to move," Will's relaxed voice told him.

"Okay."

With the action Ragetti did to Will, the young man opened his eyes. Ragetti's arms were around him, cradling his back, keeping him close as if he was his own child. He felt a palm on the back of his head, further pressing his head against Ragetti's. A soft smile widened across Will's face as he too wrapped his arms around Ragetti's back. To his astonishment really, Ragetti smelled rather decent, but his body was smaller than he thought.

"I was really worried about you," Ragetti said, breaking the silence between them.

"I noticed," said Will.

"Are you better?" asked Ragetti, letting his arms free from Will, but leaving a hand remain on his shoulder. Concern widened in his eyes as he noticed the covered bandages.

"I've felt better," admitted Will. "Compared to recent events however, I feel wonderful. I think my father and uncle have something to do with that."

"Your father?" wondered Ragetti.

"Yes, his father," Bill's voice said.

With a squeak resembling a child caught in his actions of something mischievous, Ragetti stood and moved away from Will, keeping his hands in the air. "I…um…ah…I…"

A warm smile widened across Bill's face. "I know."

Ragetti's eyes moved every which way. He pointed to the right. "It was his idea to strap the cannon to your bootstraps. He thought it amusing. 'Bootstrap Bill' he said, 'lets tie something beside the rope that gave him the nickname around his bootstraps and see what he does'. It wasn't my idea."

"Don't remind me what he did," said Bill, his eyes narrowing.

"He apologized," reminded Will.

Bill snapped his fingers. His face brightened. Both forefingers were raised as he began to lean away from them.

Will watched his father walk with his hands behind his back to the helm where Barbossa and Bailey stood in conversation. He couldn't decide if watching his father walk in a very what should have been Jack Sparrow like manor was more amusing than the expressions from the crew as all heads turned his direction. The father tapped Barbossa on the shoulder. Will knew what was coming before it did. Barbossa turned his head, and was immediately knocked down by his glorious father's fist.

With a nod and satisfaction, Bill returned to his son's side and sat beside him. He looked at Will. "Apology accepted."

Leaning into his father, Will began laughing hysterically causing Bill to laugh as well.

"Do I inspect his nose?" wondered Alexander to himself. His face twisted to the right in thought. "Nah, should he need me he'll come."

Ragetti gasped aloud as a smile widened across his huge face. "ALEX!"

Alexander turned to Ragetti and pointed at him. "I know you don't I?"

"Yep," said Ragetti, nodding his head ferociously. He pointed to his eye.

"Oh," Alexander noted. "Ragetti. How are you?"

"Pintel, it's Alexander, the one that patched me missing eye socket," called Ragetti, pointing at Alexander with both fingers.

A curious, Pintel approached. He stared at Alexander a tilted head, eyeing him up and down. After a moment, he shook his head. "No, that was Alexander Seastone. This is Andre Rosewood."

Ragetti looked at Alexander again. "No, Andre has long curly hair like Will's and it's down and he has a violet bandana and wears a lot of bright colors and lines his eyes in khol like Jack. Jack once said he got the inspiration to line his eyes from Andre Rosewood. This is Alexander Seastone, his hair is short and he's wearing normal clothes."

"But he looks exactly like Andre," said Pintel.

"But he looks exactly like Alexander," said Ragetti.

The two looked at each other then at Alexander.

Alexander's face was flushed bright red. Evidence of his pounding heart throbbed in his neck. His lower lip was bit between his teeth.

"Captain Barbossa!" called Ragetti.

Alexander's hands suddenly covered his face as his head shook.

Trudging toward them, Barbossa removed the cloth from his face. He wiped his upper lip. Evidence that his nose was through bleeding didn't wipe onto his fingers, although his face was throbbing. He looked at them and nodded. "You called master Ragetti."

Pintel and Ragetti pointed at Alexander.

"You knew Nathaniel Rosewood," began Pintel.

"Is this his son Andre?" wondered Ragetti.

"First of all, how do ye know they be father and son?" wondered Barbossa, attempting not to let his eyes widen as they wanted to.

"All the tales and stories say they are. It's like you said, when stories are set in stone and repeat with no change then it had to come from somewhere," said Ragetti.

Barbossa gave a nod. "Aye, they are father and son."

"Is he Alexander Seastone?" asked Pintel.

Barbossa's mouth opened but no words spoke through. His eyes turned away in thought. Lips moving and mouth opening and closing, he finally gave up and shrugged. "Um," was all that spoke from him.

"He's Alexander Seastone," said Jack.

"Thank you, Jack," said Alexander, with more sarcasm than Will ever achieved.

Jack smiled and gave a nod of his head. "Your welcome."

Pintel pointed at Alexander in disbelief. "You're Alexander Seastone."

"As in Lord Alexander Edmund Francis Seastone?" Marty asked, who was one of the entire crew that came to inspect the situation.

Alexander cringed and shut his face tight. "Don't ever say my name like that again."

"I forgot how horrible that was," admitted Bill.

"Mm hm," admitted Alexander.

"I like your name," said Will.

"I like _your_ name," Alexander told him.

"Me too," said Will. He looked at his father. "You and mum did well choosing my name."

"Mother Mary of God!" cried Gibbs. He pointed at Will then Alex and turned to Barbossa. "Will's uncle."

"Aye," replied Barbossa.

Will moaned as his shut his eyes.

"William Turner," said Gibbs pointing at Bill. "Will Turner." He pointed at Will. "Alexander Seastone." He pointed at Alexander. "Father to son, brother to brother, nephew to uncle?"

"Remember that nine year old who ran away when he was nine?" asked Will. Several beside Gibbs nodded. "That would be me. I changed my name from Will Seastone to Will Turner."

"You're," began Bailey.

"Aye," replied Will slowly. "William Alexander Jonathan Seastone-Turner."

"You forgot Lord," said Alexander.

"_Lord_ William Alexander Jonathan Seastone-Turner," corrected Will sarcastically.

Uncomfortable with the stares of disbelief, Will discretely curled further into his father's arms. He knew when he stepped off the ship in London the entire city's eyes would be upon him. Perhaps he didn't want to return home after all. There was always Scotland. He was there once and it was the rightful home of the Turner clan. Scotland, they could travel there.

"You still haven't answered my question," said Ragetti.

"And that being?" wondered Barbossa.

"Is he Andre Rosewood?" Ragetti asked again.

"He's Alexander Seastone," said Pintel.

"But you said he was Andre Rosewood," reminded Ragetti.

"Hector, may we speak now," said Gibbs hastily as he grabbed Barbossa's arms.

"Just say it," said Alexander, shutting his eyes. "I haven't been the other for years."

"Alex," began Barbossa. "Your father."

"Just say it," Alexander told him.

Barbossa gave a heavy sigh. "Yes, this be Andre Rosewood."

"But he's Alexander Seastone," said Ragetti.

"I knew it," Will's voice announced. "I knew it. I knew it." He looked at his father. "I knew it. You spoke to highly of Andre to me and told me tales I had never heard and, Alex, forgive me for saying this, any fool off the streets knew you were Andre. Andre Rosewood commands the _Trojan Horse_. Alexander Seastone's ship is _Trojan Horse_."

"Never thought of that," admitted Pintel.

Several other nodded.

"I know, I was an idiot. I didn't well think it through and my teacher in the pirate ways suddenly disappeared from my life in the middle of my teachings," said Alexander. His eyes flashed to Bill.

Will's eyes turned to his father.

Bill nodded. "I was his teacher," he admitted.

"I was never taught to properly conceal the pirate from the nobleman. I thought if I kept the ships the same the people would become confused. Both Andre and Alexander had a ship by the name _Trojan Horse_. I would leave London as Alexander and return as Alexander when news of Andre threatened the sea. It was years before anyone had the idea to put two and two together," explained Alexander, frustrated with himself.

"You don't just know Richard Seastone to know him do you?" asked Gibbs, pieces of the puzzle in his mind unraveling.

"No, I don't," said Barbossa.

"Literally father and son?" Will asked slowly.

"What other name would I have used? I was his son in the noble world. Why not be his son in the world of piracy?" Alexander told them.

Bill felt his son's breathing stop and heart quicken. He held onto Will tighter. "William, look at me. Will, look at me son." He set his palm on Will's cheek to turn his face to his. "Your grandfather is who you are thinking. They are literally father and son. Hector Barbossa, Edward Teague, and Nathaniel Rosewood. Today they are known as Barbossa, Teague, and Lord Richard Seastone."

Alexander knelt to Will's level.

Will looked at him with an expression of confusion and betrayal.

"Your mother, grandfather, and I discussed it when you were just a boy. We were going to tell you when you were sixteen. I promise," whispered Alexander.

"I don't know what to say," said Will, his eyes looking at his uncle, yet so far away.

"You don't have to say anything because age sixteen or nearly twenty three the reaction would have been the same," said Alexander.

"He was Nathaniel?" asked Will

"Yes, _was_," said Alexander, emphasizing the word "was". "After he had no choice but to become Lord Seastone, Nathaniel was never heard from again."

"They're still looking for him. And Andre. What if someone finds out? It's not difficult to piece together!" Will cried, nearly screamed in fright.

"Never," said Alexander, shaking his head.

"The records and evidence," began Will.

"Burned and rewritten by a man of the Navy himself," said Alexander.

Will looked at every face that looked on with wonder. He shrugged. "Who would risk hanging by treason to keep your name—" his sudden cut of words and narrow eyes blankly searched around him until they looked at Alexander.

"A man whose nearly adopted son was the nephew of Andre perhaps," said Alexander. "That was the reason he went accepted the position of tracking and dealing in matter of piracy against the crown. It was duo purpose in the beginning. Oddly, his main reason for choosing was to keep the other two members of the pirate, marine, and nobleman story alive. The second being to keep the little boy he loved most safe. Every piece of evidence brought of myself also being Andre, was rewritten by his own hand in the late hours of the night and real evidence quietly burning in the flame behind him. Will, Cutler Beckett loved you until the day he died. He wouldn't have hanged you and you know it. The only reason he didn't join you in the end was because he was too far gone from what he once was. He knew it was you in Port Royal."

"How?" asked Will quickly. "I think if he knew it was me and he loved me as you say he did he wouldn't have ruined my wedding day."

Alexander looked away with a sly grin across his face. "I may have told him you were there after I discovered you. But I will tell you something, something that proves I am true to what I speak. When I told him you were alive and well, the largest smile I last saw on his face when he was always with you came back across his face. The glow in his eyes, the huge grin said it all. He still loved you."

"I know," Will whispered, speaking mostly to himself. "And you are damn fortunate he was who he was and his relationship to our family."

"Believe me, I know," said Alexander.

"And believe me when I say Will is not dying or in pain that he can't move or on the verge of his last breath or crying and pleading for you to stay. In fact, he appears to be quite alive and content in your arms."

Bill's eyes widened as his breathing stopped. His face paled to a color more pale than white.

The circle of the crew that was around mainmast suddenly flocked to elsewhere as if the devil himself walked from the ocean and set foot upon the ship.

"Hello," said Will.

"Hello Will," said Edward Teague, with a tone of voice that was not welcoming. He stood over Bill and folded his arms across his chest and raised an eyebrow.

Bill shrugged. "He's my son. You did say take as long as you want."

"I know," admitted Edward calmly. He lost all calm and shouted. "When I said that I meant it but I didn't think you would think it to be a bloody month. William, I'm not upset that you spent a month with your son as any good father would want to do, but Jesus, notes every few days and more than once a day the past four days describing to me the pain he's been through and that he's dying." He pulled four notes from his pocket. "These are from yesterday."

"You wrote four notes yesterday?" Will quietly asked.

Bill moistened his lip and nodded.

"_Eddy, not now, I can't find it in my heart to leave him. He's in pain, more pain than I ever have been in. Both physical and mental. As I write this now, he's in my arms crying and pleading for the pain to leave._ Touching William. _I don't know what to do. Eddy, his belly is once again infected. Alex says he may not make it through the night. He's nearly on his last breath_. Really, then you may begin to understand my thoughts of why I'm upset with this next note that was sent approximately three hours after the latter note. _Just a few days more Eddy, he's sitting up and Alex will have him walking around tomorrow. I just want to see to it that he's walking_. Will is about to breathe his last breath then suddenly, three hours later, he's sitting up about to walk. Alex is good I will give him that credit, but he's not that good. And here is the final note you sent to me yesterday. _Eddy, Will's clinging to me. The amount of pain he is in, causes him to come in and out of consciousness._ William, really?"

"And your nickname is Plato and Socrates?" wondered Will.

"I'm sure they got emotional at times too," said Bill.

"Well since I'm here," said Edward as he knelt. He placed his palm across where he knew Will was injured on his belly. "Good." He turned his attention to Alexander. "No infection and it is healing. If he tears or rips it open, I promise you there will be an infection. His body and spirit is weaker than before. It doesn't require a man of my skill to know this either. You know he's gotten weaker and more vulnerable to disease. He is healthy for what he's been through. As I said, he'll be fine as long as he remains fine."

Bill sighed. "Good." He pulled his son into his chest, cradling his head against his heart.

Contented by the wonderful words, Will and Bill shut their eyes, simply enjoying the thoughts of health and promise of a life.

"William, we need to leave. Your work with your son is through and you have a duty to complete," reminded Edward.

"I'll leave tonight," said Bill.

"Now," Edward snapped.

"Eddy, what's a few more hours," said Bill.

"William," said Edward, grabbing his arm. "Let's go."

"No," said Jack, moving toward them from where he was leaning against the rail. "Let them be together."

"Jack, no," said Edward.

"They need each other," Jack told him. "Will needs his father."

"Will is fine," Edward said. He pointed at Will. "Clearly he's fine Jack."

"He's content with his father. When his father is here, things are all right. I'm not going to let you two take Billy away from Will," said Jack, standing between Bill and Edward.

Will and Bill exchanged glances until Bill stood. "Jack, it's all right. It is right time I leave."

"You don't have to go," Jack said, turning his head to look at him. He pointed at the man he didn't know was his father. "I recognize his face and every time I saw his face he was screaming at his son saying that his son was a failure and deserved to die and would never make him proud and, and that he hated him more than death itself. I'm not going to let this so called father ruin your relationship with Will like he ruined his relationship with his son." He looked at Edward's heartbroken, crushed face. "I know, I wouldn't want you as my father and I'm glad that you can't always be here because you are the one who deserves to die not your son."

"Is that how you feel about me? You don't want me to be with you?" asked Edward, silently, awkwardly silent.

"No, I don't," Jack said strongly.

Edward Teague shut his eyes and nodded. When his eyes opened, tears dripped down his cheeks. He sniffled and gave an attempted smile to Jack. "If my son should need me for any reason or he changes his mind, I would want him to know all he must do is look to sea water and call for his Athair."

"Why would your son want that?" snapped Jack, folding his arms across his chest.

"Okay," said Edward. He nodded his head. "Goodbye Jack."

Jack shrugged. "Goodbye."

Edward Turned away. He looked at Bill as if to say something. Instead, he covered his mouth with his palm and disappeared from the ship.

"Good, that got him to leave," said Jack. He looked at where Bill was standing and opened his mouth to speak to him. "Where did he go?"

"He had to leave Jack," replied Will softly.

"But he shouldn't have left," said Jack. He knelt in front of Will. "You needed your father."

"I'm all right now," said Will. Feeling tears form in his eyes, his quick thinking mind made an excuse for Jack to leave. "Jack, it's about mid-day. Usually, mid-day someone must prepare the food for dinner. You should look at the food and decide what we are going to eat tonight."

"All right," said Jack. He smiled at Will then scurried away.

Once he knew Jack was away from him, Will shut his eyes and allowed the tears to fall. "Amnesia or not I can't believe he said that to him."

"Will," began Alexander then simply sat beside his nephew. "That was Jack Sparrow as we know him. He and Edward always parted like that. What made this time different was Edward's sacrifice and odd emotion since his heart is not bound to him."

Will nodded. "There is much in this world I don't know is there?"

"Much you don't know indeed," agreed Alexander. "Your father left a few things in my possession that will help you understand."

"I need to finish Jack and Edward's journals," said Will.

He removed himself from his designated position on deck to hide away in Jack's main cabin. The parrot, which was halfway under the blanket, suddenly went in his arms. The world around him was beginning to frighten and confuse him. As usual, he felt what had just occurred was to his blame. He didn't restore Jack's memory. Jack was losing more of Jack Sparrow.

Needing answers, he turned to the journals again. After hours of reading, he set the books on the cot and gazed across the twilight horizon. That was Jack Sparrow he saw earlier. It _was_ Jack.

Looking at the book, he wondered if he truly further wanted to read into Jack's life or simply give up and leave Jack's memory to fate and destiny. The question in his head soon became which choice was he more willing to live with? Knowing further into Jack's past? Knowing he could possibly bring Jack's memory back?

Shaking his head of the thoughts again, Will curled his parrot tighter. Either he wanted Jack Sparrow or just Jack.

"What am I doing?" Will asked himself.

He buried his face in his parrot with the feeling of lone and misery, wishing he had his father back, knowing time was going to pass slowly without him.

* * *

**Enjoying the story? Please review and share your thoughts. The story only becomes more intense and deeper into the lives of Jack Sparrow and Will Turner, especially, Turner further.**


	7. VII

"_It's about time he left," said Thomas, quite abruptly and overdramatic as Alexander often was._

_We looked at him oddly._

_Father shook his head at him. "All right, if that is how you feel about me then so be it. William, Thomas, I take my leave," he said as he stood from his chair._

"_No, no, no, I didn't—" began Thomas then slumped further into his chair._

"_I know, I know," Father told him, sitting down once more and with a smile on his face. "I'm playing along Thomas."_

_Thomas pointed at him. "Really, you're my favorite uncle. I do like you better than Christian and Gabriel. What I meant was I'm glad you are leaving because I know the story gets better from here on and closer to me being in it."_

"_I wouldn't exactly say it gets better," I told him._

"_Well, it does for me," said Thomas._

"_Doesn't for me," admitted Jack with a heavy sigh. "It proves the point I completely lost me head." He looked at his father. "I'm sorry for talking to you like that. I still feel horrible."_

_Edward smiled and wrapped his arms around Jack. "And each and every time you apologize I forgive you. I understood when Billy there explained it to me."_

"_I'm still sorry," Jack said again, his voice small._

"_And say I still forgive you," Edward told him._

"_He's sorry, you forgive him. We understand," said Thomas, haste and annoyance in his voice. "Can you continue?"_

"_Are you going to interrupt me again?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at him._

_Thomas shrugged the shrug only a sixteen year old would have. "I dunno."_

"_I quiet daddy," James said from my lap._

"_I know you are," I whispered to my littlest one. I gave him a kiss on the head and pulled him further in my lap._

_Watching this, looking between us, Liam crawled into Jack's lap and wrapped Jack's arms around him. Satisfied, he gave a sharp nod of his head as Jack did when I told them about my designated place on deck._

_Jack rolled his eyes at Liam and smiled._

_Well yes, I wanted both my father and mother in that moment I was sitting on the cot. Jack's past, as you all know, was anything but pleasant. His past was dark and lonely, as I was feeling that particular moment in time. Sleep that night was near impossible to my mind, but I did finally fall asleep. From the feel of my body, sleep felt to have arrived not long before four. And because I sleep arrived late I woke up late, I believe after one that next afternoon to Jack watching me with wonder and a question I find amusing to this day._

**-)(-**

Waking finally, Will opened his eyes. Gasping in fright, he curled tightly against himself as he scoot back.

Jack's arms were folded on the cot in front of Will's face. His jaw was resting on his arms. "Will, are you alive?"

"Yes," replied Will slowly.

"It's one eighteen in the afternoon Will. I've been awake since eight o'clock," Jack told him, his head still on the bed. "I thought you were dead so I woke Alexander and I think I frightened him because he pushed me aside and ran in here to look at you. He wasn't wearing clothes."

Will rolled the pillow over his face. Although Jack didn't hear the laughing, Will's body trembled.

Believing him to be crying, Jack immediately sat beside Will and rubbed his back. "I didn't mean to make you cry Will."

"I'm not crying, I'm laughing," Will told him from the pillow.

"But it sounded like you were crying," insisted Jack, unnecessarily loudly and in a whining tone. "And now you're wiping your eyes. Will, stop crying!"

Having such an outburst of laughter, Will did sound like he was crying. His laughter was far beyond reconciliation. Although his chest and belly were killing him, he couldn't find the heart or breath to stop laughing into the pillow.

"Alex!" Jack yelled at the top of his lungs.

No amusement on his face, Alexander walked through the door. "You called?"

"Will won't stop crying. He says he's laughing but I think he's crying," whined Jack.

"He's laughing," replied Alexander.

"Are you sure?" wondered Jack.

"Uh huh," said Alexander. He pulled the pillow from Will's head and helped him sit up. "Come on little nephew, breathe."

"You're wearing clothes," Will noted.

Alexander nodded. "He told you about that?" he assumed.

"I didn't know you slept without clothes on," admitted Will.

"It's a habit," replied Alexander with a shrug. "I've become accustomed to not being clothed while in bed."

Will couldn't resist the smirk on his face as he looked at his wonderful uncle. "So are there women in your bed to make you so unclothed?

"Yes and no," said Alexander.

"So, Alex, just how many children do you have?" wondered Will, the tone of his voice clearly indicating he was sarcastic.

"Um, two that I know of," Alexander replied confidently.

Will's head tilted to the side as he looked at him oddly. "I wasn't being serious in that question."

"And I'm telling you I know I have at least two children. I'm telling you I know I have more but neither the child nor mother know that it's mine," said Alexander.

Will wasn't sure how to reply to a comment like that. He turned his head to Jack who was intently looking between them intently.

"Little nephew, I was a bad, bad, bad, bad, bad twenty year old," admitted Alexander. "And I'm not proud of it. I traveled the world for months on end with no reason in mind. During those months for about ten years of my life, seven especially I had my fair share of females in my bed. Some of which were on my travels and others worked the night life you could say. I'm not proud that I paid women just to have them for a night to myself. I'm not proud of all the innocence a young girl had before I met her. I felt unloved and I had to find my love somewhere else. I know no woman I paid loved me. She pretended to love me for one night and I could pretend I loved her. I don't what I did when I was younger. I was so stupid. I am so stupid. Colleen saved my life and here I am roaming the sea for three years doing what I did when I was twenty. And to answer your question Will, I know I have to have at least a dozen more children out there. Imagine, a child who doesn't know his real father is starving on the streets. If only that child knew I was the father." He shook his head and turned away from Will ashamed. "I'm not proud of it at all."

"Question," said Jack, his hand raised in the air. Both looked at him. "What is a child?"

"A child is a person you and a woman create. He or she is just a baby and you raise that baby as your own. You see, Will is Bill's child. Bill raised Will making Will his child," explained Alexander.

"Then I am my father's child?" wondered Jack.

"Aye," replied Will.

"Do I have a child?" asked Jack.

A smile widened across Will's face. His head lowered. "You have a daughter."

"A what?" wondered Jack.

"A daughter," replied Will, looking at him. "She is your child. She's a little girl about two and half years old."

"Oh, what's her name?" wondered Jack.

"Look on you chest," replied Will.

Jack's head bowed low. He pulled his tunic out and peeked at his chest. "I don't see anything."

"The name," added Will.

"Oh," Jack pulled his tunic low exposing the name on his left breast. His forefinger pointed. "This name?"

Behind him, Will heard a broken gasp, but spoke before Jack noticed. "Lily-Rose, that is her name. You never met her but you knew of her. You see, you let her mother, Anamaria, from your ship. You loved Anamaria and your daughter. To save your daughter you had to let her go before she was born."

"Born?" asked Jack.

"Before a human can be a human, she, in your daughter's instance, has to grow for nine months in her mother's belly. That's just how things are. She was still in her mother's belly when you let Anamaria go," said Will.

"Oh," replied Jack. He nodded then quickly began rambling questions. "Where is she? Where is Anamaria? Did I love Anamaria? How old is my daughter? What does she look like? Where are they? Does she know I'm her—"

"I can ask someone to tell them where you are going. About a month after we arrive she should arrive with Lily," said Will, answering all Jack's questions in one simple phrase.

"Perfect," replied Jack, a huge grin widening from ear to ear. His grin dropped from his face and became a confused frown. "Will, why is Alexander looking at me like that?"

Drawing a deep breath, Will turned his head to his uncle. He sadly smiled at him and nodded.

Alexander looked at Will with moist eyes. His eyebrows were high into his creased forehead and his body was close toward himself. When he spoke, he spoke to nothing but the air. "It was a bet. They both wanted to name her Lily. The first one to have a daughter could name her Lily and the second would have to settle for something else. My brother won."

"But Lily is a nice name for a girl to have. For a girl to live out her life," said Will, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

"You're right. You're absolutely right," said Alexander, rubbing the corner of his right eye and forcing a smile upon his face. "Lily is just a name, not my niece.

Will nodded. "I know, but you have to let go sometime. I let go of her and mum that night when I realized neither of them were coming back."

"What are you two talking about and why does Alex look like he's going to cry?" wondered Jack.

"A long time ago, I had a sister Jack. My sister's name was Lily too. After she was born, my mother died and so did my sister. My mother was Alex's twin sister," replied Will.

"What is a twin?" wondered Jack.

"A twin is the other half to something. My sister and I were born at the same time. I was less than five minutes older than my sister. We were one person in my mother's belly, but somehow, that one became two. And for the past fourteen years, I've only been half here. My other half is dead," Alexander told him.

"But with me you are three quarters here," said Will.

Alexander looked at him with a teary smile. Will was half of his sister and wherever Will stood, half of his sister stood as well. As long as Will was at his side, he would be three quarters of what he once was.

"Did I have a mother?" Jack's voice softly asked.

"When you were seven, she came down with influenza as did you. Jack, you nearly died from it, but your mother did," replied Will.

"You don't have a mother and I don't have a mother. Alex, do you have a mother?" wondered Jack.

"No," replied Alexander quickly, both wanting to speak quickly and end the conversation as quick as possible. "She died when I was twelve."

Jack threw his hands in the air. "Well, who on this ship does have a mother?"

"Jack, a lot of men on these ships are orphans, meaning they have no mother or father. You, Will, and I only have a father," said Alexander.

"Well, do I have a brother or sister?" wondered Jack. Both shook their heads causing Jack to fold his arms across his chest and pout. "I want a brother."

"Me too," admitted Will. "Or a sister. I just want to be a brother."

Looking between them, Alexander smiled. He walked from the room and returned with a pen and paper and pushed the paper in front of Will's face. "Read it."

Will moved his head back to increase the distance from the paper being against his nose to a reading distance. "I, Alexander Seastone, Captain of the _Trojan Horse_, declare Will Turner and Jack Sparrow brothers." He looked at his uncle. "Alex, you can't do that."

"Yes he can!" cried Jack, jumping from his chair. "If a captain can marry two people why can't he make two people brothers. I mean, after all, marriage does eventually create brothers. It counts because the only thing we are missing is the parents getting married part."

Will smiled for both Jack having a piece of himself back with a few flickers of memory and the wonderful absurdity of it all. He nodded. "All right Jack, but you're old enough to be my uncle so that makes you my older brother."

"Okay little brother," said Jack. He grabbed the pen from Alexander and signed his name. "Here, now you sign."

Will scribbled his name down. "There."

"All, right this declares you two are brothers," said Alexander, rolling the document.

But before he could tuck it away, Jack grabbed it and ran out while saying something about telling the rest of the crew.

"There was a bit of Jack Sparrow in that," noted Will.

"I continue to tell you he is still in there Will. We must find that one thing that causes his memory to click. Lottie was what made your mind come back together as one," said Alexander.

"We don't exactly have Aisling Sparrow here to get Jack's memory back do we?" noted Will.

Alexander shook his head. "I don't think it's his mother that will bring it back. I'm confident it will be something foolishly simple that we will never think of. But because we can never think of it, Jack will and that is why his memory will come back."

"You're so confident Jack will discover his memory?" wondered Will.

"I am," said Alexander with the confidence he bore.

Will nodded. He said nothing, proving his insecurity that Jack would remember anything. He knew Alexander and himself were living proof that amnesia was not permanent, but it was always the thought of his father's memory loss that made him wonder. A palm cupped his shoulder.

"Come on, we need to get you moving around a bit. You'll recover quicker when your body realizes it has need to heal and that need will be attending to some of your normal duties. For now, being on deck and walking are a good beginning," said Alexander.

"Do you think Jack still has my 'warmest, most sunniest spot on deck' out there?" Will asked with a sly grin as he pushed himself onto his feet from the bed.

"No, but we can arrange it for you if you want," said Alexander.

Will chuckled. "I'll be fine. I supposed you don't want me at the helm then?" Alexander simply gave him a look with a raised eyebrow. "Didn't think so."

"And I would write your father today if I was you," said Alexander as the two slowly walked on deck.

Will nodded as he slipped his arms through the blue robe. "I know. I'll write him every week."

"You're lucky to have a father like him," Alexander told him. "He loves you very much."

"I know," Will said with a smile on his face and not knowing the look of pain and hurt on his uncle's face.

They walked on deck to discover the crew was standing in a circle, all with some sort of odd expression on his face. But, as Will approached, he noticed one thing. Hector Barbossa stood a bit outside the circle of men with a happy smile on his face. For once in his life, he looked happy and content and proud. He turned his head and noticed Will and Alexander.

"Brothers are ye?" he asked.

Will smiled and gave a shrug of his shoulders. "It was my uncle's idea."

"He's happy. Jack Sparrow is proud to announce he has a brother and that ye are his brother," noted Barbossa.

"I like the idea too," admitted Will.

"Will!" Jack called, waving his arm in the air.

Will stepped forward and the moment he was close enough, Jack pulled him under his arm and pointed at him with a smile that unmistakably resembled Jack Sparrow, gold toothed and all.

"See, this is my baby brother," Jack announced, holding the paper up further. "And he has promised me that he'll write to someone to tell my girl and daughter where we are heading so they can meet us there."

The joyous amused faces the men had suddenly became wide eyed and mouths agape.

Ragetti pointed at Jack. "Did you say daughter?"

Jack nodded and pulled his tunic to the side revealing the tattoo. "I never knew her because I told her mother off before she was born to keep her safe. Alexander and Will told me that I would meet her one day. And her name is Lily-Rose."

Hearing that name once again, Alexander bowed his head. He felt a palm cup his shoulder and when he turned his head to inquire who it was, his eyes narrowed in a spot of confusion.

Barbossa stood beside him with a sad smile of understanding and a palm on Alexander's shoulder. "I know," was all he said.

"My sister's Lily?" whispered Alexander.

"Nathaniel and Hector did converse once in a while and I always found meself going back to London. I was raised as an English chap like yourself," Barbossa told him.

"When was the last time you were with him?" wondered Alexander.

"Eight or nine years ago," said Barbossa. "And I do know about yer back Alexander Seastone. I know everything ye went through."

Alexander inhaled deeply as his head turned to Barbossa. He walked forward to stand by Will and Jack.

"So who is his girl?" Marty asked.

"Will says her name is Anamaria," Jack told them.

The crew looked at one another with smirks and sly grins.

"I knew you didn't just tell her away to tell her away. I knew you loved Ana. Well, I'll be; it all makes sense now. You told Anamaria off when she told you she was going to have a baby," noted Gibbs.

Jack nodded slowly, forcing a smile on his face. He leaned into Will. "Is that true?"

"Yes Jack, that's true," replied Will quietly.

"Of course I did," Jack announced. He pointed at himself. "I loved someone enough to let her go." A bit more unsure of himself, he looked at Will. "Is that a good thing?"

"Yes, it's a very good thing. I've done it too," said Will.

"Elizabeth?" Jack assumed.

Will nodded with a sigh. "A long time ago, I let her go thinking she loved someone else and I was a fool to let myself believe it."

"Who would Elizabeth love beside you?" wondered Jack.

"It's a long story that I don't want to talk about with you right now," Will told him fiercely.

He didn't mean it, but the glare that formed in his eyes as he looked at Jack caused the pirate to back away from him and take his arm back. Will walked from Jack and was given a path to the belly of the ship by all who saw the glare on his face.

"All right, everyone back to yer duties," called Barbossa, forcing a smile.

Jack stood where he was with tears forming in his eyes. Will never looked at him like that before. What did he do for Will to look at him like that? Did Will hate him now? It had to have happened in the past but the problem was he didn't remember what happened in the past to know what he did to hurt Will.

"It's all right Jack. It was nothing ye did," Barbossa told him.

"But he's never looked at me like that before and it has to be something I did," Jack said softly. He bowed his head low to his chest.

"Come with me lad. There is something I should tell ye," said Barbossa as he placed his arm around Jack's shoulder.

Below deck, Will kicked at everything that came in his path. Who would love Elizabeth beside you indeed. If Jack was the old Jack and with his memory he would have thrown Jack overboard and hoped the Kraken suddenly came back to life to swallow him whole and then he would have killed the beast so Jack would stay in its belly for the rest of his miserable life. Everything was unfair. Jack depended on him for everything. His father was gone and now he would have to wait a month after his father was free to get him back. Elizabeth was still just as alive as she was an hour ago. Jack's daughter was named Lily. His uncle wasn't being honest with him and there was something wrong with him. In three more weeks they would be home and he would have to return to what he ran away from.

"Kicking everything doesn't make it better you know."

"Shut up Alex! Just shut up!" Will screamed.

Alexander stepped forward and grabbed Will's arms to stop him from breaking himself. "Calm down Will. Everything will be all right. I know you're scared. I don't know what Jack said to upset you, but it was in the past and I've learned that if it is in the past it is best just to let the past be."

"A past that you won't tell me about!" cried Will, finally collapsing into his uncle's body.

"There is a way to tell you Will that I don't have to tell you," said Alexander.

"I don't care anymore," Will told him, falling to his knees.

"I think you should read my journals," Alexander told him, slumping to his bottom beside Will. "You need to let Jack's past alone. If you are to survive a day longer it is right time you learned a few things about your family. You should begin with my father's journals. Mine won't cause any sense into you and I have a feeling reading Father's journals will explain everything in my life."

"Why can't you tell me?" asked Will.

"Have you made a promise you yourself?" wondered Alexander. Will nodded. Obviously. "Have you made such a promise to yourself not to mention something that not mentioning may kill you because it is such a promise you promised to keep quiet to only yourself?"

"Aye, and I did understand that," said Will. "That promise would be the reason no one knew my title and name in Port Royal."

"There is a reason I have this secret of mine. Father, Christian, Billy, Gabe, Colleen, David, and Ewan all know of it and I never told them," said Alexander.

"Alex," began Will, curling his legs into his torso and wrapping his arms around them. "I know he abused you. I've known for years. No one told me. I figured it out on myself."

Alexander nodded. He stuttered with his words. "I know. Your father mentioned it to me. You have no idea the extent of what he did however. My brother doesn't know. Only Christian knows what my father has done to me."

"You can show me instead of tell me," suggested Will.

"That is part of my secret," said Alexander.

Will lowered his head with a sigh. "Keeping a burden to myself left Elizabeth and I not talking for nearly a year. I did some mad things to keep myself sane in that time. I spent all my energy on planning how to save my father from the ship and perfecting the ways of piracy. Keeping that burden to myself nearly destroyed me."

"How can keeping my secret destroy me when the secret itself is destroying me," whispered Alexander.

"All right now you are beginning to frighten me," said Will.

"I'm sorry," said Alexander. He wrapped his arm around Will's shoulder. "There is so much you don't know about this family. You have no idea on both sides of your family. You don't know why you are who you are. You are one hundred percent pirate. Both your grandfathers, your father, Gabriel, and I were pirates. Lottie had such an association to them she could have been a pirate if she wanted."

"I know. I figured out a long time ago that pirate was in my blood and I would have to swear with it someday," noted Will, recalling the words Jack Sparrow once spoke to him.

"I'm not referring to Aztec gold either," muttered Alexander.

Will smiled with him. He nodded feeling much better, but still leaned his head onto his uncle's shoulder. "There is a lot about me you don't know either."

"I see it in your eyes little one," agreed Alexander. "You still carry heavy burdens."

"Except these I can't simply talk away," said Will, shutting his eyes and sighing heavily. "I wish I could wish the world back to the way it was."

"Me too Will, me too," nodded Alexander.

The elder of the two leaned his head onto his nephew's head and shut his eyes as well. He wrapped his other arm around Will's body feeling comforted by the warmth and Will wrapped his palms around his uncle's arms.

There was much between the two that had yet to be said to one another. All with good time. There was much time yet. Three weeks was a long time to be together and they would not be separated from each other when they arrived home. Alexander feared they would become closer when he returned home and becoming closer to Will may have been a bad sign since his days were numbered. He felt bringing Will back home was horrible since Will may have to one day sit in Parliament until his Thomas was old enough. Condemning the destinies of two men was a heavy burden, but he may not have had a choice. How was he supposed to tell Will everything? There had to be a more simple way to tell Will. He was dying and he had to tell Will. Could there have been a more heavy burden?

**-)(-**

"_That's so depressing," noted Lily, slumping into her chair._

"_My life gets worse from here," I admitted._

"_I don't know if I want to hear anymore," said Lily._

"_Not to mention I lose my mind," Jack said, stating his input. He raised his forefingers. "I completely lose my mind and losing my mind doesn't describe it."_

"_No, losing your mind describes it perfectly," I told him._

_Edward nodded his head. He brushed the back of his forefingers across Jack's cheek. "Losing your mind describes it Jack. Between the headaches and the memories, you did lose your mind."_

"_He wasn't the only one who lost his mind," I muttered, my eyes looking directly toward my uncle._

_Alexander shrugged a shoulder. _

"_Will, do you think it is wise you bring up that topic to the ones of young age?" asked Christian. "Really, I don't think they would understand and you them. Children don't shut their mouths. The last thing we need is the world thinking Alex and I are—well, you know."_

"_Which we aren't," Alexander quickly declared._

"_I think it's best," my father answered for me. "If they don't understand then they can come to me and Will, if you explain everything they will understand."_

_I nodded. That was logical, but I didn't want Felicity and Thomas looking at their father differently. I never looked at Alex the same way. Come to think of it, I haven't looked at Jack the same way again. Jack and I were different; that was curiosity and loneliness and we simply lost our minds. I shook the thoughts from my mind._

"_All of you understand that Jack's injured head really, really messed with his mind. He's better now. He's been better, but what happened that day was not good," I warned._

"_Will, it wasn't that bad. I just thought I was in the Locker again. It's not as bad as you are frightening the children into believing," Jack said with a laugh in there._

"_You didn't have to watch yourself go mad," I told him._

"_I hardly remember when I had amnesia," Jack pointed out._

_Anyway, I decided to continue with the story. The sea in every main shipping route is unpredictable. However, that day I know was not normal. Unless you are not in the equatorial waters, it is not possible to come across the doldrums. Coming across the doldrums in the northern Atlantic Ocean is definitely not normal. I know Calypso did it and I now know the reason. But, at the time, I didn't know it had meaning on several dimensions. All I knew was that there was no wind, and there hadn't been for three days._

**-)(-**

Hector Barbossa stood at the helm glaring at the sails. Although they flapped back and forth on occasion, there was no movement toward the ship. He was often told his glares and narrow eyes were quite the frightening sight. And because of the nature of the fright, very persuasive as well. Perhaps, he could persuade the wind into returning or persuade Calypso herself to bring the breeze back.

"You can glare all you want but the sails are not going to move," Alexander's voice noted.

"I can give it my best try Alexander," said Barbossa.

"Trust me, it doesn't work," said Alexander as he stood beside him. "And I don't thing the Doldrums can just appear near the English Channel either."

"One word," began Barbossa.

"Calypso," agreed Alexander with a nod of his head.

He shifted uncomfortably. Painfully, he arched his back and pressed his palms into his spine. The expression of more than just discomfort appeared on his face as his eyes squeezed shut.

"Ye should lie down Alex," Barbossa softly told him.

Alexander waved it off. "My back has been hurting for quite a few days now. There's nothing I can do about it. It hurts every time I walk and sit down or sit up or move, but I'm used to it. I should be used to it by now; it has been eight years since that fall. You know about that right?"

"Are ye planning on telling yer own nephew?" wondered Barbossa.

"I want to. I keep trying, but I can't bring myself to do it. There are plenty of opportunities to tell him, but it doesn't come out of my mouth," Alexander told him.

"Ye may want to before he finds out. He's like his father in that regard. It is best to just tell the lad before the lad finds out and releases a fury hell hath known," Barbossa warned.

Alexander breathed sharply as he hunched forward and pressed his palms into his lower back. His breathing was painful and heavy. When he did open his eyes, there was a shimmer not of sun reflecting from the unusually calm water. No, these were tears of pain.

Glancing from the corner of his eyes, Barbossa observed. He knew what happened eight years ago, but he didn't think it was that bad. The young man was fortunate to be walking. He feared young Alexander Seastone had done something that further wounded himself and his back.

"Alex, ye need to sit down," he finally told him.

"I'm fine," Alexander said with a fake smile as he nodded his head.

Taking yes and only yes for an answer, Barbossa grabbed Alexander's arms and helped him sit on the steps to the helm.

The moment Alexander bent to sit, he breathed through his teeth and choked back the scream in his throat. It was not meant, but his fingernails dug deep into Barbossa's arms.

"Alex, how much is this hurting ye?" Barbossa asked firmly.

"I told you already. It hurts if I move my back," replied Alexander.

"What do ye usually do about it?" wondered Barbossa.

"You don't want to know," said Alexander.

"I may have to lad if ye want to get home," said Barbossa.

"I don't have any on this ship anymore. I think my brother got to it," Alexander. "I had a medicine I made for myself for days like these when I couldn't move well."

Barbossa gave a firm nod of his head. "If ye made it then I have a feeling it was best for yer brother to get rid of it. Perhaps a back massage will do."

"Don't touch my back!" Alexander yelled at him when he moved his arm.

Across the ship, wrapped in a blanket and halfway dozing off in a somewhat warm corner, Will raised his head from the journal. The expression he saw in his uncle's eyes and on his face was more than simple pain and discomfort. The expression on his uncle's face reminded him of all the faces of the men he killed after fatally wounding them. Reading his grandfather's journals at the moment may not have been the best idea since he was getting the idea it was his grandfather who caused him such pain as he had all of Alexander's life.

Sighing, Will had a question for his uncle he needed answered. He knew the question would take time to answer, but he needed it answered. Standing slowly, he tucked the book away between his arms and the blanket he was wrapped in. As he passed Jack, the pirate glanced at him and walked away, avoiding him as he had since the day he was sore at him. Just like he and Elizabeth were, Will was no longer speaking with Jack and just like her, it was Jack who avoided him. He shivered slightly as a cool wind of air came across them. Unlike the rest of the hopeful glances toward the sails, he continued further knowing a small burst of air was not the wind they needed. He pulled the blanket tighter to his body.

Noticing Will was approaching, Barbossa relieved himself from his position beside Alexander and returned to pouring over every piece of nautical information they had on the ship of the northeastern Atlantic Ocean. He did make note that Will was not well looking other than an expression of question on his face. The young man lost most of his body weight and the cool English air was chilling his years of Caribbean body. He wondered if either of the Seastones were to return to the manor.

Will sat beside his uncle on the stairs on the same step in fact. He exchanged a worried glance with his uncle when they realized they were sitting comfortably with room to spare on both sides. They shouldn't have been able to sit on the same step.

After Will turned away, Alexander continued to look at him. His little nephew was shivering and huddled tightly against himself. He reached his arm out to pull Will close to his body, but breathed sharply and stifled a cry of pain in the back of his throat as he leaned out as well.

"It was Grandfather wasn't it?"

"What?" whispered Alexander.

"It was Grandfather who caused you this pain wasn't it?" Will asked, keeping his eyes forward.

"What makes you say that?" asked Alexander, hiding the urgency in his voice.

"Because in his journals you are twenty years old and your sister just had her first child. You two had an argument before this entry, but he's glad it was in the forest far away from me where he could also give you a black eye and no one would know who did it to you," replied Will.

"You're reading them I see," noted Alexander. "And what do you think?"

"Now I understand why you kept it from me and didn't tell me. I don't think I would have believed it were it not in my grandfather's handwriting," said Will. "Has he been doing this to you since you were twelve?"

Alexander subtly nodded. He squeezed his eyes shut and, despite the pain, quickly made for the solitary of the Great Cabin.

"Go after him," Barbossa's voice whispered near Will's ear.

Agreeing, Will stood and followed the path his uncle took, but when he entered he saw a sight that caused all breath to escape him and calling for help impossible.

Alexander was on the ground as if he had collapsed, leaning against a chair. His face was buried in his arms and he was trembling.

"Alex," Will managed to softly call as he knelt beside his uncle.

"To answer your question, it was him and there is so much more about our relationship you don't know," said Alexander.

"Come on, you need to lie down," Will said, wrapping an arm around his uncle's shoulders.

It took time, but Will eventually did get his uncle lying on his stomach on the cot in Jack's cabin.

"What happened to you?" wondered Will.

"You'll read about it soon enough," Alexander told him.

Knowing now was not the time to ask questions that would further increase his uncle's pain, Will rummaged around the chest of items his father brought for him. Included with the chest were letters and notes on specific items. Some of these letters also had instructions. He was searching for something in particular, something he enjoyed playing with as a child. This item was a jar of smooth stones from the size of his adult palm to the width of half his pinky. The stones were from a river in China, washed smooth over thousands of years by the stream. As a child, he believed these stones were a toy, but with the letter from his father, he learned they were used for massaging and relieving tight muscles along with fresh jars of oils.

The stones were placed in a pot of water he was heating with fire. Moisture while heating the stones kept them hotter for longer and kept them smooth.

He brought a jar of lavender oil from the chest and sat beside his uncle.

"Do you trust me?" he asked.

"I never stopped," replied Alexander.

"I need to get to your back. I need you to take off everything covering your back. Father told me not to ask about the scars or the amount of wrapping. He told me what to do when your back hurt. I didn't understand when I read the letters but now I do," Will told him.

"This is why I couldn't tell you," said Alexander.

"I won't ask," Will promised.

Alexander pushed his palms flat on the cot and received help from Will to sit up. Tears of fright and pain were in his eyes as he looked at Will. "It isn't that I couldn't tell; it is because every person who knows about me looks at me differently and treats me as if I am made of a substance less fragile than porcelain. My back will change how you think of me permanently. You will never look at me the same again."

"I've read the first twenty years of your life Uncle Alex," said Will. "Am I looking at you differently?"

With a single look to Will, Alexander felt his lips widen into a smile. The first twenty years of his life were filled with his drunken father abusing him, lies, running away and finding love with women who were paid to love, jealousy, and more pain than he remembered. Will read all of that, and he was still looking at him like he was a human being who was his uncle not someone who was unfairly abused and fragile.

"No, you aren't," he said.

"Then you can trust me to do this?" asked Will.

"I do," said Alexander. "Don't tell anyone and—"

"Alex," Will said, before letting him go off. "I know. I'll read about it eventually and I've seen what my father's back looks like. You know what my back looks like. I know something happened to you long ago. I'll get there eventually. You have to relax and trust me now."

With a nod, Alexander began to slowly unbutton his tunic. As he did so, Will saw the makings of a deep, violet, the same as the coat, wrap around him in line with under his arms and around his torso. The violet continued under his trousers. Will pulled the two sleeves from his uncle's body.

"You know, that color does look good on you," he noted.

"Will, it's okay to allow yourself to look at me with pity if you want," said Alexander.

"I don't pity you. I can't believe you need all of this," said Will quietly.

The entirety of Alexander's torso was wrapped tightly in a thick, dark violet cloth. Such an amount had to be present since Will couldn't see his uncle breathing. It wasn't just that what caught him by surprise. Scars were on Alexander's arms, gruesome scars. But, as he looked at the cloth, he noticed something he hadn't before. Around his uncle's throat was discoloration, like the color of light bruises fading in and out in a ring.

"He did this to you didn't he?" he found himself asking with anger.

"It may have been him, but I was nearly hanged once," said Alexander.

"With marks like this left, you were hanged," Will told him.

Alexander shook his head. "No, if I was hanged then I would have been dead. But since I was technically hanging by my neck with a rope around my throat for a few moments I was just—well…"

"Roped?" offered Will.

"I guess you could call it that," noted Alexander.

"Do you remember what he did to you?" wondered Will quietly.

"I think if you read my journals it will better answer your questions," Alexander told him.

Will nodded his head, turning away from his uncle's face and untying the knot of the violet cloth's ends. He unwrapped his uncle's left side and Alexander wound the cloth around his right since Will was sitting on his left. They were quiet as the process was done, both with thoughts that wound in and out and around the mind. But, when they were finished with their task, a smile did widen across Will's face.

Despite the pain his uncle was in, Alexander bore a great deal of muscle on his body. His torso was well toned and tight, muscular abs occupied below his chest. Both arms were thick with muscle. Scars on his uncle's chest was also present, including one that was diagonal across his right breast and another scar on his belly took up most of the right side of the skin from above his belly button to his hip bone.

Across the scar however, was tattoo. The tattoo, in fact, worked with the scar. It was of a dragon weaving his way in and out of the scar as if using it for rope. His claws were placed upon the pale scar and great tail wound around it. Wings emerged from both sides of the body giving the creature the appearance of either lifting from the wound or landing upon it. The eyes stared out from the scar, watching closely to all who approached as if protecting its master. Curiously, the eyes cried tears that fell down Alexander's belly Clenched in the mouth was a sword that Will knew very well and in fact attempted to create with his own fires. The sword was a katana, the sword of the samurai. He once met a member of the prestigious culture in the shop and received a katana of his own for trade of a new weapon. Unfortunately, the honorable sword was tucked away in his apartment in Port Royal.

"What has you so intrigued?" wondered Alexander.

"The dragon," replied Will.

"That's and old mark. I had a friend of mine in London do this to me about twelve years ago," explained Alexander. "The scar is about fourteen years old. Your mother gave it to me while we were playing with swords."

Will smiled. "I remember that day. You nearly bled to death and then nearly died from an infection."

"Things were so perfect then. It was just you, me, and Lottie carefree playing. She never meant to get me, but it happened, and I grew fond of the scar actually. It is a reminder of one of the last moments I had with my sister since she was two months with child at the time and it was while I was resting that she realized she was pregnant," said Alexander.

"Why a dragon?" wondered Will.

Alexander simply smiled as he too leaned is head over his body to look upon his ink. "When we were young, your father, Lottie, and I played Knight and Princess. Gabe always loved to watch us play this out and often drew it. She was always the princess trapped in the tower and kept prisoner by a dragon who belonged to a great and powerful sorcerer played by your father, waiting for her true hero to save her. Naturally, we did use the tower as her keep and we did have a rope that I used to climb up to save her. If Father found out that I have scaled the tower, he would kill me. Of course, I was always her knight in shining armor who defeated the dragon, but in our tales I didn't kill the dragon. Your father and I would have battles for her and I would be mortally wounded but not before defeating the sorcerer. As children, the four of us believed that dragons possessed a strange magic. We believed that dragons contained the souls of great warriors of the past who defended others and because they had pure hearts, their tears healed those of the same heart. Always, before I drew my last breath in my princess's arms, the dragon would pour his tears upon my wound. Ironically, I was always wounded on the right of my belly. When I was healing, Lottie and I would often share a smirk because I would now have the scar I should have received when I was a child. If you look, the dragon appears feminine. The healing tears fall upon me, healing my wounds."

"After mum died you wanted a way to keep her with you," said Will.

"That is not how I keep my sister with me little one," Alexander told him, slipping his fingers beneath an object hanging from around his neck. "She was buried with mine, I have hers."

Will immediately recognized the pendants hanging from a silver chain. The pendant was in the shape of a complete compass rose with both cardinal directions and secondary markings. Of course, the cardinal directions were the larger of the two. The pointing directions were inlaid with tiny diamonds and the center of the rose was a cleared circle with only silver. A letter 'C' in a calligraphic manner was inscribed into the silver.

"I miss here," Will softly whispered.

"Father and I kept a few of her possessions for you if you ever returned," said Alexander. "You have her favorite diamond bracelet and an ivory comb," said Alexander.

"But the best around my neck," said Will. He pulled the chain to allow the two rings to come forth. "Mum's engagement ring."

"You should give it to Elizabeth," said Alexander.

"Not until she wakes. I want to do things right. I want to propose properly to her and have a real wedding," Will told him.

"Okay," whispered Alexander. "Now, Will, can you fix up my back?"

Being reminded why he was in there to begin with, Will shut his eyes and shook his head at his foolishness. How simple it was for him to distract himself nowadays. He gingerly got his uncle lying on his stomach and chest again, not daring to take note of his back just yet. As Alexander heaved a sigh that was quite literally the opposite of relief, Will reached for the jar of oil. He unscrewed the top and a scent of lavender immediately filled his mind.

"Lavender," whispered Alexander, calmly and contentedly.

"Alex, just breathe. Don't think about anything else but the scent and breathing. This is going to hurt, but try to think about nothing but the scent and breathing," Will whispered as he rubbed the oil onto his hand.

Heaving his own deep breath, Will allowed himself to turn his attention to his uncle's back. Tears of wonder and worry moistened in his eyes as he bit his lip to keep his deep breaths of shock from coming through. His trembling hands gently rubbed the warm oil across what should have been his uncle's fleshy back. Instead, a thin layer of skin coated the muscle beneath. The thin layer of skin was no skin at all; it was scar tissue. Alexander's back was wholly a scar. From his shoulders to well below his trousers was a massive discolored scar. Lines reminding him of his own five lashes here and there wrapped out of the discoloration.

Rubbing his knuckles and palm into the shoulder blades, Will's eyes began the attempt to count the number of lashes. At twenty six, he turned away using the application of more oil as his reason to avert his eyes.

_This wound is old Will. He survived this long. Don't look at him different. He can't possibly be made of porcelain. He survived the men that did this to him. Just keep putting the oil on like your father told you. Get the stones too._

"Am I hurting you?" he asked aloud.

"Uh uh," muttered Alexander from the pillow. "I don't feel anything Will. When I was finally home, Ewan burned my back to shut what wounds he could. Most of the nerves were damaged before then anyway. I barely feel pressure on my bones and that pressure must be immense."

Will nodded. "Okay," he said, as he choked on the word.

Alexander opened his eyes to watch Will reach into the pot with a large wooden spoon. As he suspected, Will was finding this difficult to put himself through. There were questions in his nephew's eyes and answers that didn't want to be found.

"Then I would assume you can't feel what it is to be held?" wondered Will.

"A feeling I no longer remember," replied Alexander. "And neither can your father."

"Don't tell me that," Will told him firmly, looking at him.

With a nod, Alexander once again pressed his cheek into the side of his pillow.

Will bathed the hot stone in his palm filled with oil before placing it along the top of Alexander's spine. His massaging fingers continued down the man's spine until just below halfway when Alexander breathed sharply through his teeth and clenched the pillow. Suddenly frightened and not having expected that, Will pulled his fingers back.

"You need to do something for me Will. The injury I received years ago damaged my spine and pieces like to become slightly dislocated. I need you to push these few pieces back in line with the rest of my spine. The dislocation of the pieces is what causes the pain. Cup your palm over each piece and push forward. You'll know when everything is in line again."

"Alex, what happened?" asked Will.

"I was told, but I don't remember it," said Alexander. "You need to read the journals. There is so much leading to the incident that you need to understand. Now, run your fingers firmly down my spine and push it back in place."

Doing so without thought, Will pressed his forefinger and middle finger into Alexander's spine at his neck. He felt each bump of the cord firmly beneath his fingers. The line was straight until he came to just below halfway. Slightly, a piece of the spinal cord was to the left. It was just enough to break the line. As he was told, he cupped the bone beneath his palm and shut his eyes as he pushed forward. He wasn't sure how exactly he was supposed to know when it was in line, but he swore he felt the bone moving forward with his palm until there was a small crack and a choked back cry. He didn't think it was literally dislocated and he also didn't think he would have to do that half a dozen times before the spine was in a single line once more. Warm stones were placed all the way down his uncle's spine and he covered him with a light blanket.

Through with his task, Will knelt beside the cot. His head was parallel his uncle's although his uncle had his face buried in the pillow. He saw how tightly the blankets and pillow were clenched between the fists and undoubtedly a great amount of the cloth was bitten between his teeth. Knowing the touch of another was comforting, Will slipped the tips of his fingers between the clenched palm and the blanket. Immediately, the fingers loosened only for a moment allowing Will to sacrifice all feeling of his fingers.

He gently pulled his other hand's fingers through the golden curls. Unexpectedly, he heard the words of a song he remembered from his childhood before bedtime.

_Are you goin' to Scarborough Fair? _

_Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme._

_Remember me to one who lives there, _

_she once was a true love of mine._

_Tell her to make me a cambric shirt _

_Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme _

_Without no seams nor needlework _

_Then she'll be a true love of mine _

_Tell her to find me an acre of land _

_Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme _

_Between salt water and the sea strands _

_Then she'll be a true love of mine._

_Tell her to reap it in a sickle of leather _

_Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme _

_And gather it all in a bunch of heather _

_Then she'll be a true love of mine._

_Are you going to Scarborough Fair? _

_Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme._

_Remember me to one who lives there, _

_she once was a true love of mine._

Alexander turned half is face from within the pillow. His red, sore eye gazed at Will wondrously. The few tears that slipped from the brown orbs were not of the pain that his body felt, but were from the song his nephew sang. He sang it like his mother and his voice was just as angelic and pure as hers was.

"Better?" Will whispered.

"I love you," was Alexander's reply.

Will smiled and pressed his forehead against his uncle's. He closed his eyes in relief when he heard his uncle sigh contentedly. "Alex, is it all right if I talk to Jack? There is something I need to ask him."

"I'll be okay," replied Alexander softly.

"I'll be back in a little while. The stones should stay warm for as long as I am away," Will told him.

"Go," whispered Alexander.

Will gave a tight squeeze of his uncle's hand before slipping his fingers from around the flesh and quietly removing himself from his side. Before leaving the room, he pulled the curtains across the little window in the corner to allow only a small speck of light in the room. With one last look at his resting uncle, he left the room with quiet footfalls.

He walked on deck wrapping the blanket around himself again. Unfortunately, above them, they sky was covered in a cloud. It was one single, humongous cloud that was blocking the warmth of the sun. Of course, he didn't see Jack on deck anymore. Whenever he so much as thought about talking to him, Jack seemed to vanish.

"Do you know where Jack ran off to again?" he asked, approaching the usual crowd of men who would know.

"Thought he went up," said Ragetti.

"He hates heights. Remember?" Pintel told him.

"Old Jack liked heights," Ragetti noted.

"Well, this isn't Jack and I need to talk to him," Will said.

"He has a sore for you right now William," said Gibbs, overhearing the conversation and approaching himself. "Why I don't know for the life of me. I last saw Jack heading below to be on his own. He's been an awful lot on his own since you two had your little temper tantrum at each other. Barbossa said something to him and he's been quiet since."

Will's eyes narrowed as he turned on his heels and marched directly for the helm. 'Jack' greeted him with a smile and offered a peanut. "Not right now 'Jack'; I have a bone to pick with your daddy."

"Yes, Mr. Turner?" Barbossa asked with an amused tone in his voice.

"What did you say to Jack after I got sore at him?" wondered Will.

"I simply told him that ye thought Elizabeth loved him more than ye lad. Ye might want to go talk to him. He's been on his own an awful lot since then and I doubt it be just because of something he can't remember in the past," Barbossa hinted with a close eye.

"I don't suppose you know where he is?" assumed Will.

"Consult that compass of his. I know ye have it on yer person William," said Barbossa.

Will sighed as his eyes lowered. "It points to her and he who I can't have yet. Although I can tell you that it will point to my uncle currently."

"How is he?" wondered Barbossa quietly.

"Resting and more comfortable," replied Will. "Hot stones, a warm blanket, one of my lullabies, and his spine realigned."

Cringing a bit, Barbossa cracked his neck and rubbed the spine on his neck. "Ye don't know what happened yet do ye?"

"Don't tempt me to ask you," Will told him, immediately leaving the helm.

He was on a task to find Jack Sparrow and figure out what was wrong with him not figure out what was wrong with his uncle. Jack was more important right now. Jack was the one with more problems that a spine that was damaged.

Knowing Barbossa was right about the compass, Will gently took the compass from his robe pocket as he walked into the darkness of the hold. He was beginning to become possessive over the compass. It was his only constant in life. Everything else he had to use his best judgment. But, with this compass, it pointed to what he wanted most and he didn't know what he consciously wanted. By reading Jack's journals he understood that the compass somehow went into the unconscious of the mind and keyed in on that one thing. Going into the subconscious was why Jack couldn't get it to point to what he wanted a year ago. His mind was telling him what he wanted, but it wasn't the _one _thing he wanted most.

Thankfully for Will, the compass was pointing in a direction and he prayed that direction was one Jack Sparrow. Elizabeth and his uncle were in the cabins behind him and his father was in a different world so it could only be on Jack Sparrow. As he traveled deeper into the belly of the ship, Will found the direction pointing toward the cabins, which confused him because the compass was pointing the opposite direction before. Although, he vaguely remembered the needle switching directions as he wandered through doors and down stars. The compass was not pointing at Jack per se; it was pointing to the direction to find Jack. Going along with it, he followed anyway but when he came to a wall, he stood dumbfounded.

A wall. It was a solid, wooden wall and yet the needle pointed forward. Will looked at the compass again and shook gently, but when he shook there was no sound of metal clanking together. There was the sound of strings and chords and notes coming together in a soulful, tragic harmony. Will knew enough about music to know that was a guitar. The compass was pointing at a way to find Jack and Jack was behind the wall. Unless—Jack was always a tricky fellow.

The compass nestled in his pocket, Will pushed on the wall in front of him. Gently, like a door, three of the boards pushed forward and light poured out. He quietly entered the room and shut the wall door.

Sitting on a pile of pillows across the small and literal "hole in the wall" was on Jack Sparrow. In his lap, strings down, was a guitar. He was cross legged and looking over papers in front of him, caught up in his readings rather than to notice Will.

Young Turner however, could not help himself but to take in the room. Bailey was no fool when he informed him that Jack was musical. Two sides of the room, opposite the door, were lined with shelves and upon the shelves were old pieces of paper and folios and folders. The side Jack was sitting against and in front of the door across the room, two more guitars were nestled safely in there cases and roped against the wall. A small rug was on the floor and a lantern in all four corners lit the room. What struck Will's curiosity the most was a small rope ladder on the right of Jack against the wall simply hanging there. Apparently, there were two accesses to this little room.

"How did you find me?" Jack's voice asked softly.

"The compass," replied Will.

Jack's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Compasses point north."

"Not this one," said Will, taking the compass from his pocket.

With his hand held out, Jack's eyes seemed to recognize the object. The moment it reached his hand, a small smile spread across his face. He caressed the mahogany sides and relished the fact that it was pointing somewhere not north. It was, in fact, spinning.

Will noticed the spinning of the compass. He read both Jack's and Edward's journals and knew exactly what the needled would be pointing at if he was in the world. When Jack was sitting with his guitars, he delighted in nothing more than wishing he was playing with his father.

"Can I talk to you?" he asked softly.

Jack nodded his head as he set the compass beside him and went back to the papers in front of him.

"Why haven't you been talking to me and avoiding me?" wondered Will.

"Me being in the way ruined your life. Because of me, you lost your Lizzy for a year. I just thought if I stayed out of your way you would be happier," replied Jack.

"Jack," began Will softly. With a sigh, he sat himself beside the pirate. "It wasn't your fault. It was mine. I was too proud and stubborn to ask the truth. I assumed something I let myself believe it because I have a obsession with being right and when I am upset I am one to always wait for the reason for me being upset to confront me first. After she didn't, I told myself she didn't love me because she never asked me what was wrong or spoke to me. I consumed myself with being alone and moping in the dark and planning how I could save my father and how I would kill you when we got you back."

"You wanted to kill me?" Jack softly asked.

"I did," admitted Will, looking at him.

Jack turned away. His forehead wrinkled and eyes lowered, but he nodded. "You're not the only one who has wanted to kill me. Everyone does." He looked around the room. "I think I built this room so I could hide away from the world."

"You did," said Will. "You mentioned somewhere where you could play your music and escape the world and just be human. I imagine this is what you were referring to."

"I can't understand this," Jack said, his focus remaining on the papers. "I've been trying and looking for something that tells me, but I don't remember how to understand this. I can pick up the guitar and I just play, but I can't understand this."

Will pulled one of the pieces of paper closer to him. "This is music Jack. It's like someone telling you to do something. These lines and dots tell you what to play. They direct you to the music. Do you have a pen and paper?"

Jack handed him his requests. "Here."

Will began drawing and explaining. "This is a staff. It is where you put the notes. This is a treble clef. On these lines and in between these spaces are where the notes go, like this right here. Each line and space is a certain note. The spaces have the notes F A C E. That's simple to remember because it spells FACE. And the lines, E G B D F. To remember these notes, simply think of the phrase 'Every Great Big Dragon Flies'. We use these notes with treble clef, which is this. Treble clef is used when the notes are higher and above the middle C. Now, when the notes are lower and below the middle C, we use a bass clef. Here. Because it is a different clef, the notes on the lines and spaces change. The notes in the spaces are now A C E G. 'Alex Calls Everyone Grumpy'. On the lines, the notes read G B D F A. 'Green Bears Dance Far Away'. Now, on the lines and in the spaces are what we call notes. This is a quarter note, a half note, a whole note, an eight note, and a sixteenth note. You play these. In music, there are times when it is appropriate to not play, hence called rests. Just like notes there is a quarter rest, a half rest, a whole rest, an eighth rest, and a sixteenth rest. To play these notes and rests they must be given a beat. We call this a time signature. On top means the note that gets the beat and the bottom tells us how many beats are in a measure. A measure is like a little phrase and is indicated by this, a bar line. It'll be easier to understand when you apply it don't worry. In music, the notes can be taken further. There are things calls slurs, marcatos, staccatos, dots, and accents shown here. Also, a note can be changed by a sharp, flat, and natural indicated by these signs. A ship raised the note by half, a flat lowers it by half, and a natural requests just the note. Bringing it all together the most important piece to music is the dynamic. Music is expressed by notes and beats and rests, but it's brought to life with dynamics. Pianissimo, piano, mezzo-piano, mezzo-forte, forte, and fortissimo. Very soft, soft, moderately soft, moderately loud, loud, and very loud respectively. These are placed throughout music and there is usually a crescendo, meaning get louder, or a decrescendo, meaning get softer. However, we are not through just yet. Music can be brought to life with a ritard, which means slow down, a D.S. al Fine, go back to the sign and play to the end, D.C. al Fine, go back to the beginning and play to the end, a Coda, which is like a second ending, and a repeat.

"And all of this comes together like on this piece of music here. See all the different notes and letters and crescendos? You see, right here at the time signature. There is a four on top and a four on the bottom. The four on top indicates the quarter note is the beat and there are four quarter notes to a measure. Here. The treble clef is used in this piece so the notes belong to the treble not the base. At the very end of the piece, here, is what we call a double bar line. The song and journey is not complete until the performer has come to the double bar line. Understand?"

Jack nodded but there was a question on mind. "I've asked other people and they didn't know anymore than I did. Why do you know all of this?"

"My mother," Will told him. He recalled his boyhood when he sat at the piano beside his mother listening to her instructions and teachings. "She taught me how to play the piano when I was three years old. Everyday for as long as I could remember, I spent at least an hour on the piano. My mother taught me herself. For as long as she was around, I played. Sometimes I wanted to surprise her so I practiced myself, and when she was away, Alex taught me. He knew enough to help me, but not teach me. My grandfather knew how to play and so did my grandmother and they had my mother and uncle taught. After my grandmother died, Alex didn't care so much for music. He wanted to become a sailor and he found no time for music unless I asked him of course or he was listening. My mother took to music more. Music reminded her of her mother and her childhood when all was well. I haven't touched a piano since I was nine. I've forgotten how to play, but I remember everything she taught me. There's a piano, two rooms down from the parlor filled with music. It's a library of music piled everywhere and the piano in the center of the room beside the window. My lessons were always when the sunrays shined in and lit the piano with a golden glow. Mum loved to be in there at that time. Atop the piano there is always a flower; it was always a lily. Lilies were my father's favorite flower. She grew lilies inside in the winter. She had a small room, an indoor garden where she could work in the winter and get away from it all. I don't know why I ran away in the first place. I shouldn't have run away. I should have just stayed home. I miss it so much. I feel like I'm never going to get home."

"Don't cry again," Jack pleaded.

Will smiled at Jack reassuringly, but there was an amount of moisture in his eyes. He shrugged. "I miss my mother and home."

"We are going to your home aren't we?" wondered Jack. Will nodded. "Well then you'll be home soon enough."

"I wish," whispered Will. "But home isn't going to be what I remember it. Home is going to be dark. Dark times have happened there."

"Okay, but how do you apply this to this?" asked Jack pointing to the music on the floor and the guitar in his lap, specifically getting Will's mind to change.

Will shrugged. "I don't know. I don't know the notes on a guitar. Every instrument is different. There is a different method to produce the same note on all instruments. I only know piano."

"Do you know someone who does know?" asked Jack.

"I know two people," Will told him. "I'll write them later."

"Your father?" assumed Jack.

"How did you know?" wondered Will.

"You always write your father," Jack told him obvious.

Will shrugged again.

A sudden sharp breath escaped Jack's lips as he pressed his palm to his head and squeezed his eyes shut. He moaned as he leaned forward and eventually fell into Will's lap and lay there for a moment. His body tightly curled against itself.

Will set a gentle had on Jack's shoulder. "What's wrong with your head?"

"It hurts," Jack told him softly. "I've been taking the medicine Alexander gave me and I've been taking it every time my head hurts but it's not working anymore. I take it every morning and sometimes more."

"Jack that's bad. That's very bad!" Will told him both out of fear and discipline. "You cannot take too much medicine—how long have you been taking this medicine?"

"Since Alexander arrived. If I don't my head hurts too much," said Jack, sitting up again.

"Does your head always hurt?" wondered Will, raising Jack's hair to look at the scar on his forehead.

Jack nodded gently. "The medicine dulls the pain."

"This may hurt, but I think I know what is wrong with your head," Will said.

Reading the journals belonging to the two Teagues gave him more insight than he wanted to know, but some of it was needed. He learned Jack had previously acquired and injury to his head. This injury left a silver coin to replace a piece of Jack's skull. Frighteningly, the coin was placed exactly where the scar on Jack's head ran red.

Will pressed his first two fingers along Jack's forehead and across the scar.

The second his finger touched the beginning of the scar, Jack yelled in pain and pulled away. He pressed his palm against his forehead, hardly aware of the tears streaming from his eyes.

"I think I know what's wrong," Will told him.

"Then fix it," Jack pleaded.

"I can't. I don't know how," said Will.

"Then have Alexander or Hector or Josh fix it," whispered Jack, huddling against his pillows.

"Jack, does it feel like you have a constant headache? Or do you feel like something is always pushing against your head?" wondered Will.

"It never goes away," replied Jack.

"I know what's wrong with you," Will told him, his eyes wide.

"What?" wondered Jack.

"There is pressure on your head and that pressure needs to be released," Will said quickly. It wasn't a complete lie, but he wasn't about to try to explain to Jack how he has a coin in his head. "Do you want to lie down?"

"That would feel good," admitted Jack, slowly standing on his own two feet.

Dizzy, Jack's vision suddenly blurred as he was near losing consciousness. He reached out for help from anything as he felt himself falling and all went dark for a moment. His eyes opened to a vision of shadows and soft light. Something cold was pressed against his forehead. Frightened, he grabbed the object.

"It's all right Jack. It's me. It's Will."

"Will," Jack softly called.

"I'm right here Jack."

Jack heavily blinked his eyes quite a few time before his vision allowed him to see clearly again. He was lying in his hammock, wrapped in a warm blanket. His boots were beside him on the floor. Will was sitting beside him in a chair. A cold rag was across his forehead. The window was covered by thick curtains. Lying on the cot was Alexander who appeared to be sleeping. On his bare back were stones Barbossa was continuing to place on his skin.

"Why am I here when I should be where I was?" Jack asked Will.

"You fainted," Will told him. "You've only been out for a few minutes. I just got you in here."

"Fainted?" Jack asked.

"When someone is in pain and the pain is too much for the mind, you lose consciousness to take away that pain," Will told him.

"Has it happened to you?" Jack asked.

"It did when I was hurt," Will said.

Feeling better about himself, Jack gave a very subtle nod of his head. He touched the rag across his face, but left it there. Will knew more about medicine than he did so he knew it was right to leave what Will had done.

"Hector, is Alexander okay?" he asked.

"His back hurts lad. These here hot stones will help him feel better," replied Barbossa.

"Will they help my head?" Jack wondered.

"No," Will said, removing the rag to soak it in the water again. "Your head is a different injury. My uncle's back hurts because his muscles are sore. Your head hurts because you have a concussion. Cold on head injuries helps."

"Oh," replied Jack. "Do we have any wind yet?"

"Not yet lad," replied Barbossa with a sigh.

"Can I get up?" Jack asked.

"I would prefer you to lay still and rest for a while. I know when my head hurts resting always helps," said Will.

"Okay," whispered Jack. He twiddled his thumbs for a moment then looked up at Will. "Do you think that when we get to London and your home you could teach me to play the piano?"

"I'll teach you as I'm re-teaching myself," Will said with a smile. "I've forgotten how to play piano; however I think I can pick it back up quickly."

"Ye play piano Master Turner," noted Barbossa, quite impressed. "Never pictured ye as the music lover."

"Mum taught me," replied Will. "And I never pictured you as the type of man who enjoys botany. Hector Barbossa and plants. It doesn't exactly work hand in hand."

"I'll have ye know Mr. Turner that it was I who planted most of those plants in yer grandfather's garden and put all of those plant books in that library of his. Aye we are mutinous, traitorous, bilge rat, of scabrous dog pirates, but we all have our sensitive side," said Barbossa.

"I only think I know of one person who qualifies under the title mutinous," Will told him with a raised eyebrow. "And I never imagined you to have the same interest in tea as my grandfather."

"Aye, all three of us have our tea interest. I have me English traditions that I keep to. I wasn't born far from yer grandfather ye know lad. Granted, me parents were servants to the nobles, but I was in the noble house nonetheless. That's how I knew yer grandfather. He and Ed ran to me and I got them on a ship and then we found Edward," said Barbossa.

"I know, I've been reading his journals," Will told him.

"How far have ye gotten lad?" Barbossa asked softly.

"I was just born and he could have his way with Alex in the woods," said Will.

"Oh," replied Barbossa, turning his attention from Will to the stones on Alexander.

"You know about what he does to Alex don't you?" assumed Will.

Barbossa nodded as he looked over Alexander's back. "I know. Edward and I know. We've known for years. It was our fault we got that habit imprinted on him anyways. We introduced him to alcohol—"

"That wasn't it at all," Will told him shaking his head.

He looked at Jack who had his eyes shut and was contently resting his aching head. Alexander appeared to be sleeping, but he did not want to take any chances. This was not an issue to be explaining about to his uncle.

"Come with me," he told him.

"They are asleep Will," said Barbossa.

"I don't need Jack asking questions to the world and I doubt Alexander Seastone is asleep. He's not just Seastone and he learned from my father," Will said as he stood and walked from the room.

There was only one place where no one would be able to interrupt their conversations or have any knowledge that it occurred. It was the one place only a certain few people were allowed to enter and he hadn't been in there for quite a while. When he entered the second cabin and saw Elizabeth laying on the cot his eyes shut and he leaned against the wall beside the doorframe. The image remained in his head as he all he saw was black. He felt the immediate moisture overcoming his eyes.

Nothing had changed. She was as still and lifeless as the day he brought her here. She was as good as dead. It had been over a month since she was last awake and lively. There was no reason to keep her alive anymore. He couldn't bear the thought of her remaining like that forever. It didn't matter what people said. They only told him there was hope for her recovery because he loved her and only one man knew they married.

"Don't worry Will. I'm not going to tell ye that she'll pull back to the living with the rest of us, but I am going to tell ye that she won't give up without a fight and that's what she's been doing lad. She's not dead and so she's still fighting. She married, _you_ Will. That's got to count for something."

"I don't think I have ever heard you call me Will," noted Will, opening his eyes only to look at him.

Barbossa gave a shrug of his shoulders. He sat in the chair beside Elizabeth and gave a pat to the bed. "So what can ye not let anyone else know?"

Discreetly, Will brushed the tears from the bottom of his eyes. He sat himself on the cot beside Elizabeth but did not look at her once. He didn't want to look at her. She wouldn't wake so what matter was there to look at her. He tried once to tell himself that she was merely asleep, but he knew she wasn't just sleeping.

"William, what do ye need to tell me?"

Will slowly turned to Elizabeth's face, pretending he didn't hear Barbossa's comment. His eyes narrowed in a thought of wonder. She wasn't wearing that pink nightgown when he carried her in here. It was a silk, rose pink nightgown. There were no nightgowns like that in Shipwreck Cove. Her hair looked like it had been brushed and he didn't do that. She also looked cleaner that she was last time. Someone had cleaned her and brushed her hair and given her a nightgown. There were no nightgowns on this ship. Wait a moment.

Having an idea who took care of her, Will looked down at the blue robe keeping his body warm. His father went home and brought back the blue robe. The pink nightgown was like one his mother wore. Of course, it had to have been his father who cleaned her up and made her more comfortable. He was sure of it.

Now not able to turn from her, and hardly remembering Barbossa was sitting beside him, he leaned down and pressed his ear against her chest. Hearing and feeling the pulse, he allowed himself to slink beside her and lay on his side. She smelled of flowers. Yep, it was definitely his father who took care of her. Hearing her heart beating and feeling her breath sent warmth through his cold blood.

"We can talk another time."

"Hector wait," he softly called. "I really need to talk to you about something."

Barbossa gave a nod of his head and sat back in his chair. "What is it lad?"

"Grandfather didn't abuse Alex just because Alex was in his way when he drank and it wasn't your fault that he drinks as much as he does," Will began, yet continuing to lay his head on Elizabeth's chest. "Did you know about Henry?"

A heavy sigh and lowering eyes that eventually fell shut gave him his answer.

"When we split, the three of us, it wasn't until after the twins were born. I knew Henry Alexander Edmund Seastone. I knew him that autumn before he died," said Barbossa.

"It was losing Henry and gaining Alex that caused him to drink," explained Will. "He loves my uncle. After Henry died and he had to put up himself as a father, Grandfather wanted to kill the child if it was a son. When Alex was born, he wanted to kill him. And then discovering he had twins, caused him to go mad. He would have had two children and the untimely death of his first child still gave him two children. It took time for Alex to grow on him, but he did and you know he did. According to the journals, Alex took to his father right away and it was because of that love Grandfather learned to love Alex. Since the night they were born he drank at least a glass every night and he had been known to get himself drunk to forget. You know the first time was a mistake. He was afraid. But every other time he hurt Alex, it was for the same reason.

"Henry had blonde hair and brown eyes and so does Alex. The problem is that Alex acts so different from Henry. Henry was a natural leader I read. Even when he was four years old he tried attending Parliament with his father and always telling the officials what had to be done to make the English world better. Henry was meant to be the eldest and serve in Parliament.

"Alexander Seastone is a complete copy of his father in every manner. He isn't a leader. He's meant to help people but not indirectly. You know this. Grandfather gets drunk to make himself forget that he lost the son he should have had and he has to somehow make Alexander Seastone into Henry Seastone. When he's drunk, his mind goes into this odd thought. He thinks that if he kills Alex, Henry will somehow come back from the dead. Because he and Henry were out on that cold day when he knew he should not have had a four year old in that cold, he blames himself for killing him. After he killed Henry, Alex was born and by killing Alex, Henry will come back. Alex isn't the favorite. It's Henry. He will never love Alex the way he loved Henry. He wants to kill Alex and I get the feeling he's come close more times than I've been told."

Barbossa said nothing. He had his face burrowed into the palm of his hands. Either he knew this information or he was shocked to hear it. "Does Richard know what he's doing to Alex drunk or not?"

"Most of the time he does not remember hurting Alex, but the moment he sees Alex bruised and broken he knows it was him. He knows why because he wishes he would just kill Alex already," replied Will.

"What stopped him?" Barbossa asked as he lifted his head from his palms. "Clearly there was something stopping himself from murdering the lad. If he wanted to kill Alexander he would have done so already."

"Every time he sees Alex in pain by his doing, the guilt kills him. He wants Alex dead, but he loves him. He loves his son and he hates seeing him in pain," said Will. "If he isn't off the alcohol when we reach London, then I'm getting him help. I'm coming home and there will be change in London."

"Are you prepared to take over Parliament then?" wondered Barbossa.

"Alex isn't going to die," Will told him.

"Ye know Alex lad; he'll run again," said Barbossa.

"No, he won't run anymore because I'll be there. He won't just leave me to handle Parliament and the world by myself. Alex and I are like he and mum were. I feel I'm becoming Alex's twin. Every time we are together more and more of me feels connected to him. I know I am his half twin, but I don't think we should have this great of a connection. Reading the journals is making me connect more with him," said Will.

"So yer understanding his secrecy then?" assumed Barbossa.

Will nodded his head. "Every man has he secrets with good reason and I have my own that I've told no one." He looked to Elizabeth. "Including her."

"Ye should be warned of secrets Master Turner. Ye of all people know what they can do," said Barbossa.

"I know," agreed Will.

"And I sense there is also something else bothering ye. Something to do with yer uncle I think," noted Barbossa.

Will looked at him with narrow eyes. "How did you know there was something else on my mind?"

"I've been told I have an excellent sense of a man's thoughts. Been like that since I was a mere teen," said Barbossa.

"There is," admitted Will. He opened his mouth to speak and would have if not for Jack walking in.

"Alex wants to get up but I told him no and he said he was the one who knows his body and knows when he should get up and I told him you wouldn't want him to get up and he told me that you don't know anything about medicine and that he was going to get up and then I told him I was going to get you and he said fine go get him and I told him I would and then he said he would be getting up when you got in there and I told him fine but I was still going to get you anyway," Jack told him.

Barbossa chuckled at the mere moment of Captain Jack Sparrow in Jack. He and Will exchanged a glance before walking back into the main cabin where Alexander was still lying on his stomach. "Thought ye were getting up."

"Shut it," said Alexander. He looked at Will. "And you were right. I was awake."

"I told you not to trust a man when his eyes were closed," said Will to Barbossa.

"How is yer back?" asked Barbossa.

"Feels fine to me," said Alexander.

"Then why are you still lying down?" wondered Will.

"I don't want to move. I'm comfortable," admitted Alexander, rubbing his face into the pillow. "I forgot what lying on soft pillows felt like. It's been a while since I could lie in my own cot. I am one to avoid the doldrums so I'm always swinging back and forth."

"Jack, why don't you go on deck and talk with the crew. It's been a while since they've spent time with you. I know Ragetti misses talking to you," said Will.

"But my head hurts," Jack reminded, pointing to his forehead.

"You can sit in the shade of course or sit below deck. It's comfortable down there," Will said.

Jack contemplated if that was what he wanted to do. He spun in a circle as he muttered to himself then turned on his heels and walked out of the room continuing to talk to himself.

"I'll take that as a yes," noted Barbossa.

"Yeah, so will I," agreed Alexander as he pushed himself to a sitting position. He arched his back until there was a firm, loud pop. "Ah, that felt good."

"Do you trust me?" Will asked quickly.

Alexander looked at him with a raised eyebrow and pursed lips. "I've learned to never trust a man who asks that question and yes I know I trusted you before but now I don't."

"What if I said my father would have tried to tell you this but being your older brother you wouldn't take it. He said me being me and your nephew, you would listen to me and hopefully let me do it," said Will.

"I get the feeling I'm not going to like this," noted Alexander. He turned to Barbossa.

"I don't know what the lad is talking about," Barbossa answered before he could ask.

Meanwhile, Will was rummaging around the chest his father brought him a little while ago. He removed all items on the top layer and reached his arm below. Not successful at reaching what he was looking for, he grumbled and pulled everything from the chest, setting it all around him until his head and shoulders were burrowed in the chest.

Barbossa slowly turned his eyes to Alexander who exchanged a glance with him as well. They shrugged and turned to Will when he gave a small cry of success.

"Don't kill the messenger all right? This was not my idea," Will told his uncle with a flat box in his grasp.

He set the box on the cot and pushed it forward to his uncle.

Alexander looked at the box then up at him then back at the box. He had a feeling he wasn't going to like this. Usually his brother was the one to get him to do things, but if even his brother knew he wouldn't be successful, he knew he was not going to like this. With a sigh, he pulled the top of the box from the rectangular object and set it aside. An object that was wrapped with cloth was nestled between the sides of the box.

He looked at Will one more time before pulling the cloth aside. What appeared to be a black tunic was the hidden object.

"Will, it's a tunic. Why would my brother not be able to give this to me and why are you keeping this in such secrecy? Yes, I hate black, but there is no reason to keep this such a secret," Alexander told him.

"It's not a tunic," Will told him softly and his face sorrowful.

Shaking his head subtly, Alexander reached his fingers around the black object. Almost immediately, he noticed the cloth was thick and durable yet soft. He stretched the cloth to discover there was some flexible movement. His fingers soon discovered there were two sides and eyelets close together. Shaking his head more and his eyes widening, he literally ripped the object from the box.

A long black string was attached to one of the eyelets and wrapped neatly around itself. The object was one solid piece of thick black cloth that, when held to his chest, extended to his hip bones.

"If you notice, the whalebone is in the back and extends the entire length. There are three separate bones sewn into it and close together," Will softly said.

"I am not wearing a corset," Alexander told him through his teeth and his lips trembling.

"Father told me to tell you it was a brace," Will said.

"I refuse," Alexander said, throwing the contraption in the box.

"And you think I approve of this?" Will cried. "I have no knowledge of what happened to you and my father shows me this object and tells me only I will be able to give it to you. He said you needed this. It was a matter of life and death and pain and no pain. I don't know what happened. I haven't asked you what happened like you wanted. I've seen your back and I haven't asked. I've felt what your spine feels like and you told me it happens like you are used to it. I had to realign your spine. All I know is that this thing is going to help you for some reason. I don't want to lose you and I feel like I already am losing you."

"That's because you are losing me Will," Alexander said.

"Tell me what happened, please," Will pleaded. "I want to understand what happened. You can't move. Yesterday I learned something about you I never would have imagined. I'm going home Alex. If I'm going home then I think I at least deserve to know the truth."

"Only six people know what happened. Me, Father, Colleen, Ewan, Christian, and Gabriel. It stays that way," said Alexander.

Will turned to Barbossa. "You told me you knew what happened. What happened?"

"I would assume Father told you I fell down the stairs one night," said Alexander.

"Aye, that be it," replied Barbossa.

Alexander nodded as he looked at the black contraption in the box. The knowledge of what once happened filling his mind, his eyes had no time to secure the tears before they fell across his furious, heartbroken face. This was his greatest secret, the burden he had kept from the world. If he told one person, his family would be ruined further and telling one person would lead him to sharing more about himself than he wanted to let onto. Telling Will would change his nephew's life forever. There was something he was hiding from Will and it was for a very good reason.

"I'm dying," he told them softly.

"As are all humans," said Barbossa.

"No," Alexander told them. He lifted his head. "I'm _dying_. Will, you must understand that if you return home you are going to be the heir to the empire until my eight year old Thomas is ready. Your training will have to begin immediately. You must understand you are returning to the very thing you ran away from."

"Tell me the story," Will told him clearly, scooting closer to him.

"I did fall down the stairs," Alexander said. "I have hardly been home since then. This happened about eight years ago. I do not remember, but I've been told what happened."

"Alex, breathe," Barbossa said softly as he too sat beside Alexander's side seeing the pain on his face.

"I had enough of it. I was done," said Alexander softly. He shut his eyes. "For twenty two years my father was hurting me. I feared living at home. I was living in fear. I was thirty four at the time. Colleen was carrying Thomas inside her. It was autumn, before the celebration. Five years ago that winter, my sister and her child died and you and I ran away. Yes, Will, I tucked you in bed that night and ran. We ran the same night. Ever since then, my father's drunkenness increased and with the approaching winter it continued to worsen. I lived in fear every night of my life and I couldn't do it anymore. I was going to tell father that he needed help.

"As you could imagine, when I went down one night to tell him, he was drinking. I snapped I was told. I lost it. We began arguing. I told him I was leaving him. I was going to take Colleen and Felicity and leave. I would find my own place to live somewhere far away from there and never return. I told him Will was right when he left and never came back. He was right to leave and I couldn't blame him. I told him I intended to find my nephew and take him with me and find Bill and live together. I was leaving London that night. I had enough of his abusive ways and I put up with it for twenty two years too long.

"The argument continued up the marble stairs and the entire house was awake at this time. We were screaming at each other, me in my anger and fear and the sense of enough and father in his drunken state. I wish I could say he was more drunk than he was because he remembers everything. I have no memory. Gabriel told me what happened. He saw it happen. Father and I were at the top of the stairs screaming our lungs out at each other. I've been told we both were in tears and overcome with anger by then. I went too far with my comments. I now know I did.

"Both of you already know what happened to Edmund. He walked into the trap set for his brother and sacrificed himself for my father because he couldn't become Lord Seastone. Edmund and I have the same sense of freedom and heart. According to Gabe, I told my father that Edmund's sacrifice was in vain. He should have lived and let his brother walk into the trap. I told my father that it was his fault Edmund died because it was his idea to run away. I told him that Ed was the smart one and had the courage to sacrifice himself. My father was a coward and I apologized that I am more like Ed than him. I said Mum and Lottie were fortunate to be dead because they didn't have to live with him. I literally broke my father's heart on the top of the stairs. I told him that if he was any kind of decent man, he would kill himself. He told me that since I was like Edmund and wanted to die then I should have my own sacrifice as well.

"He pushed me. I fell backwards on the marble stairs and broke. Over a month later, I woke in my room without the knowledge of what happened. Colleen took Felicity and Dirk and were living in town with Christian. Gabriel and my father were the only two in the house. I woke with Gabe at my bedside. I don't know how to describe the look on his face. It was as though he was told I would never wake and then when I wiggled my toes, I think he became more of Church attending man.

"For a few months, I had a difficult recovery. Several ribs were broken. My arm was broken. If I would have fallen any different, I would have been killed. My back was not broken, but a lot was dislocated and it took months for me to walk again. The moment I was allowed out of bed and on crutches, I left. I did not say goodbye to my father, who only came to see me when he thought it was sleeping. I did not tell Christian I was leaving either. I simply left. I cut my hair and changed my clothes and found passage to Ireland where I went to Teague Castle. I knew something from higher powers was on my side, but when I arrived and it was Edward Teague himself who answered the door, I felt I would be all right.

"I spent the next few months getting on my feet again and Eddy looking after me and I was always welcomed by the Irish pirates. He sent word to Christian where I was and all of them met me up there. Colleen was furious that I had left her without any warning, yet she understood. Thomas was born in Ireland. I wanted to get away from everything and Colleen told me to go. Chris and I went to the Caribbean, Port Royal to be exact and there I found the most wonderful thing. I found my nephew working with swords. He was a beautiful fifteen year old who I didn't want to take home. He said nothing of being a Seastone and I allowed it because of what just happened to me.

"It was also after I left Port Royal that my name being known by Davy Jones was announced. The captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ senses when a person is dying. Both of you know this. It was also then when I discovered my brother was part of the ship and crew. I told him where his son was, but he didn't want me to tell him where his father was. At the time, we thought because he was on the crew there was no going back. Neither of us remembered the curse. Will, when I said I knew Davy Jones better than anyone it is because I do. Every time I was out sailing he showed up. He told me that I would be dead before age forty five. When I asked, all he said was marble stairs.

"I didn't believe him at first, but the more I was out sailing the more I began to realize I was changing. I was losing my energy and my back was hurting more and more. There were days Chris did not leave my side because all I could do was lay on my cot in agony screaming because it hurt. When I returned to London, I did the dumbest thing I could think of. I invented my own pain reliving medicine. The base of this medicine is the Hemlock plant. I use only a miniscule fraction of the poisoned part of the plant. Over the years, I've abused the plant and I've added more and more poison so I will be unconscious for a longer amount of time. The pain kills me. I literally cannot move and I would rather be unconscious than feel it. I use more and more because I'm building immunity to the plant and I need more of it to have the same effect. I am literally poisoning myself. My brother knew. Bill removed all the medicine I had on this ship and I know he removed the bottles on the _Horse_ as well.

"I haven't been home in three years. Since that day I left about seven years ago, I've been home for perhaps two months. My children don't know me. I am a dream to Felicity. She knows I'm her father but I'm never there. If I ever saw Thomas, he would not know who I am. Sometimes Father gives me reasons to sail, but most of the time I leave to get away. I find that if I am not home, my family does not have to listen to the arguing and wait for something to happen to me. I'm forty three years old.

"I am dying. Between the abuse I've been through and the pain and the illnesses and what I've done to myself and poisoning myself, I'm dying. There is the story Will. There is no reversing the poison in my blood. I am going to die soon and when I die you are going to inherit everything until Thomas is ready. If you don't want to stay then you don't have to. After I get you healed up and healthy and take care of Jack's head, if you want to leave I will personally give you all the money and find you a place to live where father cannot get to you. I'm not going to let him ruin your life like he ruined mine. I don't want to see you become Lord Seastone. You are Will Turner, not Lord Seastone. It isn't you. I want you to live and not die. I know what it is to die and I don't want you sharing my pain. You don't have the heart of a lord. I'm not going to make you do it. All right?"

Will sat silently to himself and with his head down. His fingers were tightly in his lap. There was a shimmer across his fingers like water had run down them. He raised his head as he nodded. Moist, red rings surrounded his eyes as he looked at his uncle. He bunched his sleeve in the palm of his hand and wiped his nose and face then ran his fingers across his robe.

"Forget me Alex. I'll deal with my noble life one day at a time. I know the truth now and there is no going back. I will take matters into my own hands when I get there. I'll take care of it," Will told him. He leaned his forehead against his uncle's cheek for a moment then burrowed his face in his uncle's neck and. "All your life you have looked after everyone else around you. You never took care of yourself. You told me you are dying so now you should take care of yourself for once. Live the rest of your life. Don't worry about me. I'm smart. I'll manage and I'll do whatever I want to do."

"Are you going to stay or leave?" asked Alexander.

Will smiled. He raised his head and looked at his uncle. "I'm a Turner. Of course I'll stay. Things might get done around Parliament when they see a Turner is there."

"I think they have every reason to fear you," noted Alexander.

"You have no idea," Will told him.

"But I do," Barbossa said.

They two had forgotten he was still sitting in the room. Well, he was now standing by the window looking out. Will noticed he stood not moving with his arms tightly folded and he could see his lips pursed and eyebrow raised from there. He knew that look; he had seen it many times before and knew that Hector Barbossa was not in a pleasant mood toward another soul and when a person lied to him, there was revenge about to be sought.

"You know, your father didn't have this idea," Alexander said, looking at the black contraption again. "Ewan had the idea. Any surgeon knows to set a broken bone and supply minimal movement for minimal pain. Clearly however, Bill must have gone to Ewan while he was running off on his London travels and he must have measured me while I was asleep."

"It's not a bad idea. It'll help with the pain since you won't be able to bend your spine or strain it," said Will.

"Do you want to wear a corset?" Alexander asked him.

"I have," said Will. Even Barbossa turned his head to look at Will with a look of shock. "Elizabeth and I were going at it one day while planning for the wedding. I told her that she was being a baby because she had to wear a corset to the party that night. She told me I wouldn't last the night if I had to wear a corset. I told her I could. So we had a bet going. If I could go the entire night wearing a corset and still compose myself then she would never complain again and make herself as small as she could for the wedding. If I gave up and changed before the night was out then she would chose how comfortable she wanted to be. No one but the two of us knew about this. Before her maids went to get her ready, she got me ready. 'Ow' is the only word I find suitable. You can feel your ribs crushing your lungs and your organs shifting into every space available and every pull of the strings your lungs get smaller and smaller. She enjoyed pulling on the strings and hearing my try to breathe. She was laughing when she got done. I think she pulled as tight as possible, because I could barely breathe and she did loosen it a bit after ten minutes.

"There is no expression for the agony I was in that night. And, for the record, it was one of her corsets to minimize everything so that's why it fit. With my clothes and my coat, no one even knew I was wearing a corset that night. I guarantee everyone did notice how uncomfortable I was and how often had a ridiculous expression across my face. There was a moment when I felt like I was going to pass out so I rushed out to get fresh, cool Caribbean night air. That's when Elizabeth admitted to me she was impressed. It had been five hours into the party and it was near dinner and there would be another few hours left. She honestly didn't think I would make it that long. Everyone noticed how little I ate a dinner though and how much I drank.

"The celebration continued on and then it was finally over. That moment, when the doors shut and the last guest left, I collapsed in a chair and leaned back like I was going to die. Weatherby thought I was going to die. Oh, my mistake, he knew. I removed every layer of clothing covering my torso right there and demanded Elizabeth remove it. Weatherby made the comment I won and I did win. He helped me breathe again. There is no greater satisfaction than breathing. After that night, she never did complain about corsets again, because she did pull tighter than she normally did to herself. I had bruises on my torso where the damn whalebone broke my ribs. Yes, the damn corset broke one of my ribs and that is why I nearly passed out. Needless to say, she was impressed beyond all reason and vowed I would never tell her to quit complaining or make comment that she was thin enough ever again."

"Your father and Gabriel look good in corsets and ball gowns too," said Alexander.

"Romeo and Juliet," Will said with a huge smile. "I know Gabe looks good in a corset and ball gown. I still cannot believe you kissed him."

"All of ye have issues," noted Barbossa. "And, Alex, we'll only pull as tight as feel necessary to yet remain comfortable."

"It is a good idea," Alexander admitted. "And it is black so no one will notice and when I cover it with my usual piece of violet no one will know the difference. Oh, fine, let's get this over with."

"Master Turner, I'll give ye the honors," said Barbossa. "I'll hold and ye can pull."

Will smiled as Alexander sighed heavily.

While Barbossa held Alexander so he was sitting completely straight and keeping him there, Will pulled the strings through each of the eyelets in the front.

"I'm beginning to understand the tantrums my sister went through while preparing for celebrations," Alexander noted as he watched Will.

"Yes well, I'm not going to pull as hard as I can to make you as thin as I can," said Will. "And I must admit, I don't remember seeing you with muscle."

"Not being home and always on the sea does that to a man. You of all people should know that William. You have also been out and about sailing these past few years," said Alexander.

"Except, in all accordance to my injuries, I look as pathetic as you once did," Will told him.

Alexander looked at him. He did notice Will lost some weight from a month ago. He noticed that before, yet, looking at him now, he did see the clothes Will was wearing were more baggy and the robe was pulled tighter around his waist. The beautiful, healthy, glowing bronze skin he once bore was more pale and lost of the glow. He had to admit his nephew did look weaker and less healthy.

Suddenly taken from his thoughts by pressure on his spine, he gasped.

"Sorry, pulled too tight didn't I?" wondered Will.

"I just wasn't expecting it," said Alexander. "Go on keep pulling."

Will glanced at Barbossa who gave him a nod of his head before pulling. He pulled and after a few tugs and loosening of the strings, tied a small knot at the top. Before his uncle suggested taking a look at himself, he reached for the long violet cloth and began wrapping lightly.

"There, no one will know the difference but us. You should feel a difference though," he said.

"I feel I can slouch over or move very well or feel comfortable," Alexander told him. He swung his legs from the cot and stood. "I definitely cannot move as well as I would like to hope, but the pressure feels good. It isn't horrible pressure. It's a comforting pressure. I do feel the whalebone. There is a piece directly on my spine and one more on either side. Clearly I'm not meant to bend over."

"That's the idea lad. Yer not supposed to bend yer spine," Barbossa told him.

Alexander gave the two of them a sad look. "This is what my life has come to. I have to wear a corset to keep myself from ultimate pain and I have to watch my nephew become who I was born to be."

"It may not be as bad as you think. I've been told I can lead well," Will said.

"I know, but leading and being a lord of England are two different things," said Alexander.

Will threw him a tunic. "Perhaps to you."

"You can try to tell yourself otherwise but the fact remains that you will have no life once you announce yourself as Lord Seastone," said Alexander.

"Who said I am going to use Seastone? I'm not a Seastone. I'm a Turner. It's Lord Turner," Will said.

"You must understand that you are coming back from the dead. Everyone believes you are dead Will," said Alexander.

"People come back Alex. Trust me. I can name three people who came back from the dead," said Will.

"I know Jack and Hector did," said Alexander. "But who is the third?"

"You," replied Will. "You are like the Uncle Alex I remember from my childhood. You weren't like that before when you came back to us."

"Being around those from your past does that William," said Alexander.

Will nodded as he made to walk out the door but ran into Jack instead.

Jack was holding the charts from Sao Feng in his arms and was looking between them and Will confused. He pointed at the charts then at Will. "You know how to read these? Tell me how to read these. I know I've seen it before, but no one knows how to read them and I asked everyone and everyone said you knew how to read them," he said.

"Aye, I can show you," said Will, he took Jack's hand and led him to the helm and spread the charts across the table. "You know these aren't normal charts correct?"

"Uh huh. I know how to read normal charts," Jack told him.

Will spun the circles. "This is how you find where you want in the world. You need to know what the land location looks like or what the land location around the sea looks like. When you do find it, there will be writing somewhere around the circles that will tell you what you are looking for."

"Show me!" Jack cried.

Shrugging, Will looked at him. Nothing came to mind, but one thing and he would soon regret what that one thing was. He spun the circles and lined them up. "There, what does this read?"

"Over the edge. Over again. Sunrise sets. Flash of green," replied Jack. He looked at Will. "Where is that?"

"Davy Jones' Locker. The place where we had to rescue you from," Will said.

"Everyone mentioned something about that. Is it true that I was a prisoner there for a year?" wondered Jack.

Will nodded his head. "You were."

Understanding, Jack nodded. He leaned over the charts and began playing with them.

Seeing him content, Will walked away with a smile on his face. He turned back to look at Jack. Jack looked like the old Jack. In fact, Jack looked exactly like he did when he was in the Locker looking over the charts. Will leaned on the rail and looked into the lifeless sea. There was small current, but not enough to make a difference in movement and, as far as they knew, could have been much farther from England than planned. The warm colors of the setting sun cast golden glows across everything.

"Remind ye of the Locker doesn't it?" Barbossa's voice asked.

"Too much, considering I showed Jack how the charts work and I have them pointed to the direction of the Locker," noted Will.

"I meself have found many hours wasted over that odd contraption. I think I've found every location known and I may be planning a use with it," said Barbossa. Will turned his head and looked at him suspiciously. Barbossa raised his palms and took a step back. "I'm not going back to the Locker or sending anyone there. Don't fret over that young William. No. Ever heard of Ponce de Leon?"

"Juan Ponce de Leon ,1513. Upon his discovery of Florida, it is said he also discovered the Fountain of Youth. Aqua de Vida he called it. Water of Life for us English speaking peoples. It is said the fountain is in the Bermuda Triangle and that is why no one but he has found it. Legend hast it, the heart of the Bermuda Triangle is the Fountain of Youth and all those that pass through the Triangle disappear because they are immortal and no longer need to have a name. Another legend states that zombies and mermaids guard the Fountain and the both are victims of the water of life. The women become immortal mermaids and can gain their freedom if they kill enough men and the men become zombies and also can gain their freedom if one soul can replace theirs," said Will. "What? I grew up with Alexander Seastone. I know every pirate legend out there."

"Ye sure didn't know much about Davy Jones before I met ye," noted Barbossa.

"Yes well, neither did any of us really. I knew the basics of him," said Will. He looked at Barbossa again and spoke softly. "Living forever doesn't sound as good as it should."

"In your opinion Master Turner," replied Barbossa.

"Why do you want to live forever?" wondered Will.

"Have ye ever died?" asked Barbossa, turning to look at him.

"Touché," said Will, looking back out to the sea and the sun that was touching the horizon.

From behind them, there was a cry and then Jack ran to the rail where Will and Barbossa were standing. "What's that?"

"What's what?" wondered Will.

Jack looked out then turned his head to the other side of the rail and ran over there. "It moved. Over here."

Pintel and Ragetti and Gibbs ran to the rail.

"I don't see anything," Gibbs told him.

Jack cried out ridiculously then ran back to the side where Will and Barbossa were. More of the crew followed him as well. And then he ran back. And then back again.

Will grabbed Barbossa's arm as he suddenly off balanced. He and the pirate shared a glance then ran for the helm where the charts were.

There on the charts were the words that read _Up is Down_. No wind was in the black sails. No current was pushing them along the sea. And on the horizon the sun was setting.

"Oh no," whispered Will as he shut his eyes.

"Wait a minute. This is just like what we did when we was in the Locker," noted Ragetti, suddenly stopping running back and forth.

"But we aren't in the Locker," noted Pintel.

Joshamee Gibbs who had heard their small conversation stopped running. Others who experienced the Locker stopped running as well until only Jack was the one running back and forth.

"Please, we have to rock the ship. Up is down!" Jack cried to them, his arms flailing about as he continued running.

"According to Jack's mind he's back in the Locker," said Gibbs. "No wind and a setting sun."

"Jack!" Will, called pushing forward past the men.

Jack ran to Will and grabbed his arm. "Tell them we have to run. Tell them we'll never get out of here if we don't flip the ship. The sun's almost gone from the horizon."

"We're not in the Locker. Jack, it's okay. You're not in the Locker," Will told him.

"That's exactly what you want me to believe William. You want me to stay in the Locker for kissing her. You want me to stay here," Jack told him, pushing him back and he ran back and forth again.

Everyone watched him. They didn't know what to do. No one had the slightest idea of what to do. They knew they were in no danger and the Locker far behind them. How did one go about telling Jack Sparrow he was not in the Locker anymore when he believed they were? Jack's mind saw he was still in the Locker and there was no changing that. Usually Will was always able to reason with Jack and set his mind straight, but not even Will was successful. The condition, they even had to admit, were correct for the Locker.

Jack leaned over the rail facing the west of a compass. He screamed in agony as the sun disappeared and collapsed on deck, grabbing his arms. He rocked back and forth, quivering. Crying aloud, he was speaking to someone that was not there, but were there in fact. His two companions who were always present in his hallucinations were beside him mocking him for not being strong enough and losing his position as leader of the men. Terrified and angered, he got back to his feet and swatted the air until he lost balance and once again fell to the wooden boards. He saw the pairs of boots that stood motionless.

"Why didn't you run? Now we're trapped here because of you. I'm trapped here, and I'm never going to get out," he told him through his teeth. His eyes turned to Barbossa. "And you, you want me here. You tried to kill me and I guess you won. I hate you. I hate all of you!" Will stepped forward. "I hate you too."

"Jack," Will said softly.

"Get away from me!" Jack screamed as Will reached out to set his hand on his shoulder. He backed against the mast, the very same mast Elizabeth chained him to. "She kissed me to chain me here. She murdered me and we're stuck here because of her. I hope you're happy."

"We are not in the Locker," Will told him.

"Prove it!" Jack screamed.

Will pulled the compass from his robe pocket. "This points to what you want most in this world. If we were in the Locker, it wouldn't point. It would spin uncontrollably."

Jack took the compass from Will's hands and opened. Huge, warm drops fell from his eyes. "It's spinning."

"What!" Will cried, stepping forward.

The needle was indeed uncontrollably spinning in one direction in Jack's quivering palms. Of course that made no sense at first. Jack always knew what he wanted. Will knew that. Then again, perhaps what he wanted most wasn't in this world.

"Jack, what do you want?" he asked.

"I want Athair," Jack told him.

"Who?" wondered Will.

"Athair. Father," replied Jack. "All I want is my father. He's all I ever want. Every day I spend here the more I want him."

"You want your father," noted Will. "Of course it doesn't point," he muttered to himself. "Give me the compass. See Jack. The needle is pointing. If it was in the Locker it wouldn't be pointing."

"It's pointing at me," said Jack. He tapped the needle. Although the needle bobbed it remained fixed on him. "Why is it pointing at me?"

"I don't know," replied Will. "But it's pointing. You're not in the Locker. We got you out long ago."

Jack looked at the faces behind Will who were looking back at him dumbfounded and in disbelief. His eyes passed across each one of their expressions. Suddenly realizing he wasn't in the Locker, he slumped down the mast until he firmly was seated on the wooden boards. He hugged his knees tightly to his chest and buried his face in his knees.

Quickly shutting the compass and ignoring that it was pointing directly at Jack, Will knelt. He set his hands on Jack's shoulders.

Sobbing, Jack threw his arms around Will's back and burrowed his face in Will's neck.

Feeling the sudden moisture and Jack's trembling body, Will pulled him close against him. He rubbed his back.

"Why is this happening? What's wrong with me?"

"You have amnesia Jack. Your mind doesn't know what to think," Will told him.

"Fix it," Jack said. He pushed Will away to pull on a cord around his neck. "You promised me you would fix it."

As Will looked on the necklace with the few glass beads, the piece of eight, the random shell, and the square knot on the side, he did recall that he promised Jack he would get his memory back. That promise was over a month ago and the weeks since then Jack's mind was more and more lost. Will didn't know if he was going to get Jack's head back or not. He thought it would be much easier than what it was. He knew Jack was remembering so there was hope left, but the things that Jack was remembering were the most horrible and tragic.

Never once did Will go back on a promise. He completed every promise he ever made, but this was so very different. He didn't know what to do with Jack. No one did, but he couldn't give up on him. He couldn't leave Jack like this forever.

"I have an idea," Alexander's voice said. He knelt beside Jack. "Do you want to come on my ship? There are no memories of you on my ship and you only know one person. It will be a place where no one will know you and you can make new memories. You will not be reminded of anything. It may clear your head."

"I'll only go if Will does," Jack said.

"Of course I'll go with you," Will told him.

Jack wrapped his arms around Will again. He nodded and swallowed hard. The _Black Pearl_ was too much for him and he knew it. Everywhere he turned someone or something reminded him of something of the past and his head was killing him. The pain and the pain from trying to remember were more than he could handle. He needed a new place where no one would know him. He wanted to start over. He felt starting over would bring his memories back.

"All of ye go now. I'll have yer things brought over tomorrow morning," Barbossa said.

"I agree. The sooner we get you off this ship the better," said Will.

Jack nodded. He stood and wiped his eyes. He took a look around and noticed the crew were minimal and those that were present were attending to normal duties except for a few preparing a boat.

"I'll be right back," Will told Jack. He turned on his heels and quickly followed Barbossa into the Cabin.

"I'm not going to take the ship Will. I'm not mutinying. I did not have one thought in me head to mutiny Jack. Jack is in no condition to be mutinied," said Barbossa. He heavily sighed and turned away from Will to walk to one of the windows.

Will stood alone and watching him. His eyes narrowed in wonder as he observed Barbossa's back trembling and a pair of knuckles press against his forehead. Quite sobs and gasps mixed with the trembling. Will slowly stepped forward.

Barbossa must have noticed he was approaching because he breathed deeply and quickly wipe his face with the back of his hand and then wiped his hand on his coat. He looked at Will then turned away.

"Ye _will_ not be telling anyone about this," he told him in his usual gruff tone.

"There is nothing to be ashamed of. You're human. Even the Devil himself was brought to tears," Will said softly.

"I have a reputation to maintain young Turner," Barbossa said, proudly fixing his coat in the reflection of the window.

"First and foremost you are a human. To be human is to have emotion," said Will.

Barbossa sighed and slumped. He pressed his palms against his forehead then sat himself on the table. "I'm losing me sanity. I cannot do this. I cannot endure the sight of this man who thinks he is Jack Sparrow. That is not Jack. I don't know who that man is."

"That's why Jack is losing it. No one, not even himself knows who that man is and no one is helping him remember," Will said.

"But you," agreed Barbossa. "Alex is right to get Jack of this ship. Jack—"

"I know what's wrong with Jack," Will suddenly said. "There is a coin in Jack's head that is pushing in against his brain and the pressure is killing him. He's acting like this because he is in a constant state of pain. I'm hoping when we get to London and Alex can replace the coin then he can have a chance to remember."

"There be a coin in Jack's head?" Barbossa asked, needing confirmation of that ridiculous comment.

"He cracked his skull a few years back and Edward Teague had no other option but to remove part of his skull and replace it with a coin. When he hit his head, the impact bent the coin. The coin is either bent, or separating from his skull. He told me he has a headache that never goes away even after he has taken medicine Alex told him would take away the pain. I felt his head myself and there is a bend. Jack's losing more than we thought because there is more wrong with him than we thought," Will told him.

Barbossa was staring at him like he was a fool acting like a complete idiot or he had no idea who Will was. "Are ye sure?"

"I've read both Jack's and Edward's journals," Will said with a sigh. "We need to get that coin replaced now."

"Do ye think he can handle another two weeks?" wondered Barbossa.

"If not I know someone who can get us everything we need and Alex can do it at sea," Will said.

"Only if the lad cannot handle it will ye do this at sea," Barbossa said, firmly stating his wishes.

"Alex would agree. I want Jack's head taken care of the day after I get home. I don't care about anything else but Jack right now. The compass did point at Jack. There was no hesitation. All I care about is Jack," said Will.

"The compass points to what ye want most lad, not what ye care about most," said Barbossa with a raised eyebrow.

Will shook his head. He pointed at himself. "I do not want Jack Sparrow. I am not like that. I don't want Jack. Is that what you are suggesting?"

"What are ye suggesting?" asked Barbossa.

"I don't know what are you suggesting?" Will asked again.

"Yer the one who thought of it," said Barbossa.

"I am not like that," Will snapped softly as he walked to him. "I don't want Jack like that."

"Aye, but now that ye have read the journals ye should know what happens to the lad when he is craving love and attention," said Barbossa.

Will shook his head. "I am not—I don't—no!"

"William, I see how you look at Jack. I can see in yer eyes lad. The compass points true. Ye know that," said Barbossa.

"I don't want Jack," Will said, his tone speaking as though he was trying to convince himself.

"Ye want love lad. Ye want to be loved again. Yer closest to Jack more than anyone else. Ye know it to be true," Barbossa told him. "Don't deny it lad. Ye are craving the feeling of love and ye are closest to Jack. She's not in yer life anymore is she?"

"She not," Will admitted, his head lowering. "Just as you cannot watch Jack I cannot sit and wait for her to wake. If she's not woken before London, I don't want her living anymore. I don't want her alive if she isn't alive."

"Ye need to get away from this ship as well lad," noted Barbossa.

"I came to say goodbye to her, but I don't want to see her anymore. I can't," Will said.

Barbossa sighed. He stood and set his palms on Will's shoulders. "Do what yer heart tells you William. I told that to yer father once."

"What did he do?" wondered Will.

"Went back home only to discover the Seastone twins were staying in Scotland," replied Barbossa.

Will smiled and ironically, the eldest of the Seastone twins walked past the door quietly.

"Jack's already in the boat and he told me to tell you to hurry up because he wants to get away from all this," said Alexander.

"I'm coming," said Will.

"And you," began Alexander, stepping forward with a firm finger and narrow eyes. "Don't even think about taking this ship or it will be the Locker for you."

"Not intending to do anything of the sort," Barbossa said.

"You better not," Alexander said.

"He's not," Will told him then quickly left.

"Alex," Barbossa called. "Keep a firm eye on the two of them."

"Agreed," said Alexander.

With the remnants of the sunset and the full moon above, there was plenty of light as they rowed from the _Black Pearl_. Jack was sitting with his back against the ship and wrapped in a blanket. He kept himself close to his body like a child in fright. His head was down, away from the world. There was evidence of fright in his low eyes and thought as well. He his eyes met with Will who was sitting beside him.

Will raised his head and his eyes met Jack's as well. He turned away immediately and watched Pintel and Ragetti row.

There was an odd silence between the six of them. Alexander was at the bow of the boat. Pintel and Ragetti were rowing quietly and Will and Jack were sitting beside each other at the stern.

Jack slowly scooted closer to Will and the slight movement was felt with a small bob. He curled under Will's arm and Will's arm wrapped around his shoulders unconsciously. His head rested against Will's shoulder.

Instinctively, Will rested his jaw on Jack's head and pulled him closer to his body. He felt Jack's tension erase with his sigh of comfort. "You'll be okay," he whispered.

"I know," replied Jack. "Will, I love you."

Inside, Will's heart stopped beating as did his breathing. There something was flying around in his stomach. This was wrong. This was so very, very wrong. Jack didn't say that out of friendship. Perhaps Jack did say that out of friendship because he was the only one who Jack trusted. They were best friends after all. He didn't love him the way lovers did. He felt completely different for Elizabeth. Sure, he loved Jack but he _loved_ Elizabeth. There was more than one definition of love in the world.

Curious, Will moved slowly to pull the compass from his pocket. The needle immediately flung to Jack Sparrow who was lying against him and under his arm. There was nothing wrong with wanting him. Right?

* * *

**A Note from TurtleHeart: okay, so yes it's been a while since an update, but i had to get myself out of a rut with this story and clearly i did. as a fair warning, the next chapter is going to get a little weird but it will all be explained and is necessary to understand the story and the dark pasts of our three favorite people being Jack, Will, and Alexander.**


	8. VIII

Feeling much better than the previous day, including his head both physically and mentally, Jack walked onto deck. He made note right away that the ship was different and not just in sail color. This ship was more used and weather beaten, yet taken care of much better than the _Pearl_ was. The men were also much different. They were older, all much older than the young captain and they looked tired and filthy. Everyone looked like that. He wondered when they last bathed, not that it mattered but he was simply curious.

Thinking on the matter of bathing, he discreetly gave himself a small whiff and touched his hair. He didn't smell horribly, but his hair felt odd. He didn't know why he was the only one with hair like his to begin with anyway. On a quest to find that answer, he marched forward searching for Will. The best place would be to first walk toward the laughter that was coming from the bow. Yep, where was laughter, Will was surely right there.

Will, Alexander, and someone unfamiliar to Jack sat close to each other in the sun laughing. The unfamiliar person was just as bronze as the rest of them and his hair was in a small ponytail behind his head, barely keeping the light reddish brown hair back and out of the way. His eyes were both a hazel and a green. Even sitting down he looked a bit taller than Alexander and Will, but perhaps not since he was the only one on his knees. Something was different about him from everyone else. He looked different. His face was more round, but he was far from a healthy amount of fat on him. He was the most muscular of them all. His style of clothing was more simple than the rest since he only wore trousers, a cream tunic, and a simple tweed coat. Will and Alexander dressed more ornately and with more expensive cloths. Approaching, Jack raised both eyebrows as he saw the left ear of this person. His left ear was nearly completely covered with silver hoops and his right ear also bore three silver hoops.

"Jack!" Will cried happily, motioning him to come forward. "Feeling better?"

"My head still hurts," said Jack.

"I'll take care of that when we reach London in about two weeks," said Alexander.

"I think I can wait that long," Jack told him. He settled himself in front of all of them, assuming it was acceptable for him to do so. Unsure however, he poked Will on the shoulder and used his hands to gesture. "Can I sit here with you?" he whispered in Will's ear.

Will nodded his head. "Of course you can. I was just catching up with someone I knew a long time ago." He motioned to the man sitting to his right. "Jack, this is Christian O'Niall. He is my uncle's first mate and very best friend."

"Long time since I've seen you," said Christian.

"You know me too," Jack said sadly and disappointedly. His head lowered onto his chest.

"Not really Jack. I know about you and I ran into you once or twice, but I came into Alex's life when his ship did and you were gone by then. I only know you by reputation and hearings of you on the sea," replied Christian.

"Then you don't know me?" wondered Jack.

Christian shook his head. "Not so much."

"Why do you look different from everyone else and why is your ear made of earrings?" Jack asked.

At that, Christian and Alexander laughed again. Will shook his head and rolled his eyes at them.

"Well, for one Jack, I'm Irish," said Christian. I spent the beginning of my life in Ireland then when I was five we moved to England. After my parents died when I was twelve, the woman who my mother worked for took me in as her 'nephew'. She isn't my real aunt, but I've always called her Aunt Evangeline or Aunty Evie I called her when I was younger. After I met Alex, we became friends and I became a sailor and the two of us have been inseparable since.

"As for my ear being covered in piercings, it's just been my thing since I was younger. Legend has it silver hoops bring good fortune to a man. All the piercings came from when I was a teenager and everyone who knows me knows I have them so it's never awkward for anyone."

"Chris, I think you're known for that ear in London," noted Alexander.

"Probably," admitted Christian.

Jack reached up to his own left ear. "I have three piercings?" He reached to his right ear. "I have six piercings." He turned to Will and tugged on his ear. "You only have one." Alexander's ear was tugged next. "You have three too, but only in the left ear. Does everyone have piercings?"

"Only sailors," said Alexander.

"Oh, well, why?" wondered Jack.

The three young men shrugged in the same manner, palms up and head tilted to the side.

Jack laughed as he pointed at them. "You three did that at the same time in the same way."

"We do that," replied Alexander and Christian simultaneously.

"Are you two brothers?" Jack asked curiously.

"No," Alexander and Christian once again replied.

"They are pretty much considered brothers wherever they go," Will told him.

Christian nodded. He grabbed Alexander and pulled him in his lap then kept him close to his body. Alexander looked up at him with a smile and when he did, Christian pressed his lips on his forehead. More content, the two of them sat there.

Beside them, Will couldn't help but notice they were not just sitting there. It appeared as though they were cuddling. Christian was holding him close and Alexander was holding onto his arms. They looked a little too close for friends. Subconsciously, Will turned his eyes to Jack for a moment. He shook his head and smacked his palm to his face as he wondered what it would be like to cuddle Jack. _No, stop it Will. You're not like that. You don't want him; you're just lonely. Why are they cuddling? This is wrong. What's happened to this crew? Does this just happen or it just them and me? Help!_

"Are you all right Will?" Alexander's voice asked.

"Yes," replied Will distantly as he pressed his palms to his face. He shook his head. "I'm losing my mind."

"Will, you don't know losing the phrase losing your mind until you're welcomed into my world," Jack told him.

"I was once remember?" reminded Will.

"When you were eight years old," said Jack.

"How is it you can remember everything I've ever told you when you can't remember a single day of your life?" wondered Will.

"I've been trying to answer that question too," admitted Jack. "And Will, I was wondering if you wanted to do something for me. Well, you can help me do something."

Before Will had the chance to answer, Jack grabbed his arm and led him into the main cabin and back to the room he slept in the previous night. He sat Will on the bed and waited a moment before speaking.

"I want you to help me look normal," Jack told him, a breath nearly after every word.

"Normal?" Will asked, not quite sure what that meant.

"Get rid of this!" Jack cried, pulling at his hair. "And I don't want the beads anymore. I don't need the rings. I don't need all this stuff on me. I just want to be normal. This," he made another clear gesture to his hair. "is not me. It may have been Jack Sparrow, but I'm not Jack Sparrow anymore. I'm Jack Teague. This isn't me. It doesn't feel right."

"You want me to try to pull out your hair?" wondered Will.

Jack nodded.

"One moment," said Will, hopping from the cot and out of the room.

He walked on deck to where the two were a moment ago and found that they were not there. Following a quick walk around the upper deck, he took a quick walk around the main cabin and found only Jack smelling different soaps and playing with separate oils he found in a cabinet.

"I don't suppose you have seen my uncle recently?" wondered Will.

Jack shook his head.

Will walked back on deck grumbling.

"If you're looking for your uncle he and Christian went below deck. Just walk down and go to the stern of the ship. They usually go there when they feel like being alone. It's a small room."

"Thank you," replied Will.

Doing what he said, Will walked down the stairs to the middle level of the ship. A few of the men confirmed they did see the two of them wander down the hall behind him. That was good news indeed and so he walked down the hall. He had to make note that the upper deck was nice and tidy, but below deck was spotless and cleanly, which truly did not surprise him. Everyone always said if Alexander was not at home he was on his ship and he would never marry a woman because he was married to his ship.

At the end of the hall was a pair of French doors, like the entrance to the great cabin above. Red curtains covered the windows. One of the doors was not completely shut and he was going to open it, but the second his hand reached out he heard an interesting sentence.

"It's only a matter of when they try love," said Christian.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Alexander noted, turning his back from the open window at the end of the room to look at Christian with a small glare.

"I didn't mean it like that Alex," said Christian. He stood from the chair and walked over to him where he wrapped his arms around Alexander.

"Then how did you mean it?" wondered Alexander as he walked away from him.

Christian grabbed his arms so he couldn't walk too far from him. He pulled Alexander back toward him then set his palms on his cheeks and pressed his lips onto Alexander's forehead for longer that a moment. "I just don't want to see them have to do what we have to do." He kissed his cheek. "I don't want them to have to hide it."

"I don't know what I'm going to do when I get home," said Alexander hopelessly. "How am I going to tell Colleen? I don't know if I love her anymore. I don't know if I can love a woman anymore."

Outside the doors, Will's eyes widened and his breathing rapidly increased. He gingerly pushed the door open a hair more than it was to get a better look.

"You know you love Colleen more than me. You always have. You just need love and so do I and I've always kind of been like this," said Christian.

"I know, but you love Josephine more than me," Alexander told him. "Promise me one thing. When we get home, ask her to marry you."

"I don't know if I want to marry her though," admitted Christian. He moved his lips down to Alexander's neck.

Alexander tilted his head so Christian had more flesh to consume. He shut his eyes as shivers went through his body. A smile widened across his face. This felt right. He missed this feeling. The lips worked down his neck and onto his collarbone. He missed this so very much. This was exactly what he needed after the previous month and recent events.

"Chris," he softly called.

"Hm?" wondered Christian, raising his head.

Slowly, Alexander leaned forward until his lips were pressed against Christian's. He pulled apart to look into Christian's eyes wondering an answer to the question he had in his head. The hazel was glowing and pleading for something more. Answering that plead, he set his palm behind Christian's head and pulled his lips tighter onto his own. Two hands not belonging to his person slowly unbuttoned the front of his tunic. His own hands pulled the hem of Christian's tunic from his trousers. They eventually slowly worked up his back, bringing the tunic with it.

Only for a moment, Christian pulled away to lift his arms over his head so his tunic could be flipped off and thrown to the side.

"How is it you manage to get more muscle?" wondered Alexander, gently raking his fingertips along Christian's midsection.

"It's been a month since we were last together Alex. I missed you so much," said Christian.

"I missed you too," whispered Alexander, grabbing his head and intertwining his fingers through the brown hair.

He felt himself being pushed backward until his lower back hit the edge of a table or chair. He sat on the table and let his tunic slowly slide down his arms.

As Christian moved his lips away to gently gnaw on his collar bone again, Alexander pulled his body closer against him. He raked his fingers down Christian's perfectly aligned spine. "Chris, there is something I should tell you."

"Can it wait?" wondered Christian.

"No," replied Alexander.

"Okay," said Christian, backing away.

With a sigh, Alexander began to untie the knot of violet at his side. He slowly unwound the violet cloth until the black contraption was exposed. "The whalebone is in separate pieces on my spine so my spine stays as straight as possible. I can't bend over and I'm constantly sitting up straight unless I completely lean back. It was my brother's idea and Will finally convinced me to do it." Sudden tears spilled from his eyes.

"Oh, Alex, what is it?" wondered Christian, wiping them away with his thumbs.

"Will knows what my father did to me. I told him," Alexander replied, turning his head away.

"Shh, shh. You know it'll be all right," whispered Christian.

Alexander shook his head. "I don't want him to go back. He'll be Lord and he was never meant to be Lord. I don't want that for him. I don't want to go back. I don't want to have to stop this. I love us. I need _you_ not Colleen."

"We could keep us a secret," said Christian.

"I'm not using Colleen as a cover up for our relationship. We have to end it when we get to London," Alexander told him.

Shaking his head, Christian kissed Alexander again. He tilted his head so their foreheads were touching. "Alex, I don't think I can end it. You and I have been doing this for so many years."

"I know and I don't want to stop either," began Alexander. "But what if—"

His thought was cut short when Christian pressed his lips onto his and tightly held. Forgetting the future and knowing it was simply best to live in the moment; Alexander pushed it from his mind. He didn't want to think about what would happen when they got home. He knew he would have to somehow stop seeing his best friend.

Neither of them knew when it started really. It started one night when they were drunk, but being drunk and sober were two completely different things. All they knew was that they didn't want it to end. They loved each other more than two men should have. They were lovers. It was wrong and they knew they would most likely be killed if anyone found out. Everyone on the crew knew they were lovers and said nothing. They were men of the sea and knew this was a typical occurrence between two best friends who were always together. It happened to everyone at one point. Even his father and older brother fell in love with a man and did more than they should have.

Alexander and Christian had only one problem. They were two men in love with each other. They were in too far with each other to back out. One was married and with two children and the other was practically engaged to a girl he loved since forever. They loved each other like they loved their women if not more than their women. While all the men went ashore to find the women, they stayed on the ship alone and with each other at night. It was a habit to sleep in each other's arms at night. They had to be together. They were too close not to be touching in some form. They literally loved each other more than once.

Every day they were together they had to be with each other. Sometimes being in each other's sight was enough, but other times they had to be in each other's arms and other times they had to be completely touching each other to feel satisfied. That was the problem. They had to be touching to be happy. Both of their pasts were similar and their souls craved love. In the beginning they only loved each other because they craved love. Now, they craved love from each other.

Alexander knew exactly what Christian liked. The young first mate was a simple lover. He much more preferred gently kissing and light caresses. A simple bit of love went a long way for him. Holding hands and playing with their fingers gave him the satisfaction he loved and needed.

Christian knew his Alex needed a bit more than a gentle kiss and holding hands. His life had been rejected of love and compassion that he craved it horribly. He needed fierce love to keep him alive for lack of it when he was younger. He knew exactly what Alexander had been doing since he was fifteen years old to get love. While the rest of the world loved his sister and his brothers, he was the one that was left out of the pile. Because of his past, he needed love. Love was his escape from the horrors. Love reminded him that the scars were just scars and not who he was and that his back injury wasn't determining who loved him and who didn't.

Simple did not describe what Alexander enjoyed and Christian didn't mind pleasing him. He never did. The smiles and comfort on Alexander's face was worth every second of it. When he was a teenager he questioned his preference and he still did. When he was with his Josephine everything was fine and he loved her, but when he was with his Alex, things were different. There were different sensations and feelings of love that a woman couldn't give him.

The second Alexander slowly began pulling Christian's trousers down his legs and Christian pushing Alexander on his back on the table, Will shut his eyes and quietly closed the door. Without a word, he walked back up the stairs, across deck, and into the quarters he and Jack were sharing. He stared blankly into the distance with nothing in his mind. After watching that one would have thought to have some sort of thought in mind, but there was nothing in his head. It was only emptiness.

"Much better," Jack said as he walked in the room dripping wet and a towel wiping his hair and that happened to be the only towel on his person, or rather not on his person and in his hand.

Will watched a little too closely as Jack walked past him to the other side of the room. As Jack's backside was exposed to him, Will couldn't help but make a silent note that Jack had a very cute tan butt. The very second he realized he just thought that, he groaned and fell back on the bed. This was not happening to him.

-)(-

_I had to stop the story right here to simply shake my head and hide my face. Unfortunately, I still remember seeing the two of them and thinking that about Jack. No one was happy that I had told several children that event. In fact I told__ two four year olds ,a seven, an eight, a nine , and a twelve year old__. They were all children and I couldn't believe I had told them that._

_As I looked at them, they were looking at Alex and Chris awkwardly. Alexander and Christian were not looking at each other._

"_How did you do it anyway? You don't exactly—how did you?—I mean, you two are men so—don't answer that. I don't want to know," Thomas said._

"_Thomas, I am never going to tell you," said Alexander._

"_Do you two ever want to again?" wondered Thomas softly._

_All eyes, including mine, turned to Alexander and Christian. They looked at each other. I saw the answer in their eyes and I saw that they didn't know how to respond, but I did and so I told Thomas "when someone has loved another like they loved each other once, a long time ago, the feelings never change and neither does the desire. The mind changes, but not the heart."_

_The two nodded._

"_Okay, so what about you and Jack?" wondered Thomas. "Did you two?"_

"_Yeah," replied Jack. "More than once in fact. That I do remember of the few things I remember when I didn't have my mind."_

"_Little One, it's nothing to be ashamed of," Father said, trying to comfort me again, but the thought just never left my head what Jack and I did. "It happens to all men who are on the sea with no women. You fall in love with your best friend because he is your best friend. You need love and you know your best friend can give it to you because he needs love. It has happened since men sailed the oceans for months on end."_

"_You do realize, Jack, you told everyone who we didn't want to know," I said. "I never told her."_

"_And I never told Ana that sometimes I wish she would love me the way you did those few times," said Jack._

"_You and Jack?" Elizabeth asked and I knew she didn't know what to think of that. "And you got mad at me when I kissed him."_

"_I know, I know," I told her. "I know. You have every right to be upset with me. I should have told you. After Jack got his head back, we decided it best not to share what we did because it just happened and things were set right again."_

"_Are they?" Father wondered._

_I nodded confidently. "Yes, they are."_

"_Athair?" Liam's voice asked. "I no understand."_

"_I know you don't," Jack said. "And a lot of people don't understand. I'll tell you when you're a bit older."_

"_It makes sense," Felicity softly said. _

"_Love is love," agreed Colleen. "And, for those of you that are wondering, I have always known about the two of them. I understood because I knew Alex needed love more than I could give him. All I can do is thank Christian for being there. I don't want to know what would have happened if he wasn't there."_

"_Well, at least Father sleeping with another man meant he couldn't get a girl pregnant and I don't think I would have wanted a dozen half siblings," noted Thomas._

_We looked at him and, of all people to find that amusing the most, Alex was the one that burst laughing. Of __course, my__ uncle thought that was funny. He would find that amusing really and only he was laughing._

_And back to the story so I can get this off my mind, Jack was somewhat clothed wearing trousers, but I remember thinking that he still was quite small for his height, but I was glad there was still muscle there. Unfortunately, I knew, at that moment, that I was in love with Jack. At the time, while I was soaking his hair in water and oils I could only wonder if Jack loved me back._

-)(-

With a sigh, Jack looked at Will concerned. "So, you've never done this before?"

"No," replied Will.

Jack's eyes slowly searched around the room and found everything particularly interesting all of a sudden. Thoughts circled the caramel brown pupils. They finally settled on Will in a curious manner. "Then how do you know what you're doing?"

"I asked my uncle and he had a friend on the ship who once had dreadlocks. Pretty much after we're done soaking your hair I have to pull them out piece by pieces and hair by hair. Hours and hours of combing and a constant coating of oil are required to get them out in the most painless manner. I must warn you this is not going to be painless," said Will.

"Make my hair like yours. I don't want it this long. I want it shorter," Jack told him.

"All right," said Will. "That takes half the problem away. Can I ask why you want me to do this now of all times?"

"I want people to see just Jack and not Captain Jack Sparrow. I'm not him and I probably never will be. I don't think I'm going to get my memory back at all Will, and I just want to be me and stop pretending to be someone I'm not anymore," replied Jack.

Will nodded his head as he cupped the oil in his palm and smoothed it into a dread. "I know, you mentioned that earlier. What I mean to say is why now as in this very moment and not before?"

"I simply feel like now is a good time. No one knows me on this ship accept for you and Alexander of course and when the rest of them who knew me before see me again they'll see me as a I am and not as I was," replied Jack confidently. "Besides, perhaps with me away from them they can get me off their thick headed skulls and see me as I am."

"Understandable," said Will, his firm tone of voice ending the small conversation.

With Jack's hair dripping in coconut oil and well slicked, Will had him sit in a more comfortable cushioned chair. Jack himself wanted to sit in front of the window and mirror to both watch the sea and Will. Silently, Jack wanted to do a little more than just watch Will. He knew Will thought it was odd how he wanted a mirror in front of the window. His excuse was simply "I want to watch myself become who I am. I've had quite enough surprises thank you." No, it was much more than to just watch him pull out the dreads; he wanted to watch Will's every move.

Something about Will made his heart flutter and beating difficult. At times, he found he was unable to breathe around Will. The young man's brown hair was beautiful, especially with his light brown highlights shining in the sunlight. His smile was pearl white and gorgeous. Curls soft to the touch and beautiful to watch. Somewhat tan skin giving him a gentle glow. Small body most likely fitting perfectly in another's arms. Asleep, he was a beautiful angel and when the moonlight shined on him, Jack found himself doing nothing but staring at Will and watching his chest rise and fall with every breath.

Unknown to Will or any other soul in the present world, Jack was playing the part of Wills guardian angel. Nightmares were setting in for Will at night in the middle of the darkness. The darker the night the darker his nightmares became. Jack sat up sometimes at night watching the stars in the sky waiting for his companion across the room to root around and softly call out in his sleep. His body would tense and shift uncomfortably. Below their closed lids, his eyes darted back and forth. While his brow wrinkled his eyes squeezed themselves shut as if he himself was trying to see further. His arms sometimes bat at the air as if he was trying to ward away the cause of his horrible dream and his legs shifted uncomfortably as if trying to run. Altogether, he would shift about and call for various names, "Mum", "Gabe", "Dirk", "Father", "Elizabeth", "Cutler", "Beck", "Harry", "Theo", "George", "Weatherby", "James", "Grandfather". "Daddy", "Alex", "Elizabeth," and "Beck" were the most popular names called out softly from his lips. There was one name that, in recent nights, was becoming more and more popular.

"Jack".

Jack turned his eyes from Will's reflection in the mirror to the sea. He was being called in his friend's horrific sleep more and more. One part of him told him to shake the nightmare from him as he was presently doing. Another told him to keep Will in his sleep. Even dreaming nightmares, Will was still dreaming of him. He must have been sorting the good and evil in Will's sleep. After calling the name "Jack" over and over several times, Will finally settled into his hammock. What was it exactly that he was dreaming anyway? Jack thought about asking every time he saw Will in a waking day, yet he believed that cause would merely turn in to a lost cause. Knowing his fortune and the manner fortune was treating him in recent months, it was likely the past haunting Will and he wouldn't understand any of it and ask questions only making the nightmares more and more vivid.

Sudden chills going through his body, Jack shut his eyes and shuddered. He swallowed hard. Vanilla filled his lungs. Will's scent. Will always smelled of vanilla and the sea. Gentle fingers were combing through his hair. He delighted in the manner Will was pulling at him. One hand gently, yet firmly kept the clump of hair in one place and blocked the pain while the other pulled and removed the knotted hair. At the present moment, Will was pulling the clumped bangs apart. His chest was nearly pressed against Jack's face as he was attempting to remove the matted hair as gentle as possible. Vividly, he recalled when Will had the tight muscle occupying most of his chest and body instead of the bone thin appearance he bore. Yet, the smaller Will got, the easier it would be to hold him.

Discreetly, Jack leaned his head into Will's chest to inhale the sweet scent of seawater and vanilla. The scent intoxicated his lungs with pleasures that he didn't know were possible. Being so close to Will took his breath from him. Breathing was once again difficult to manage and shivers consumed his bloodstream.

Hands once again touched his head in a gentle manner, tilting, combing, caressing when hair was pulled too hard. Caressing. Jack so very much wanted Will to caress more than just his head. His friend's hands were rough and intimidating, but, at the moment, the intimidation was all but there. Finger pads brushed the crown of his head and down, taking hold of a single brown snake on the back of his head marking the completion of one side. The pads gently applied pressure at five small places throughout his head and gently pushed forward guiding his head downward.

The right of Jack's vision was blocked with brown, smooth strands that kinked. The left hung heavily. Unfortunately, Will was halfway done which meant the hands would soon be no more upon his body and the vanilla seawater would scent so strongly.

His eyes turned to Will. Concentration, Will's brown eyes were narrow and his face tightly fixed into a gaze. A small tip of a pink tongue poked through the lips in complete focus. His face was set and the features of Will's face came out, especially his cheekbones and soft jawline. A few curls fell onto his shoulders, and his brown eyes were suddenly more golden.

Fingers pressed more oil into his hair dreadlock by dreadlock. He couldn't find himself straying away from Will's hands. A person's hands were a person's hands, but there was something about Will's hands. They felt good on his head. If they felt that good on his head, he wondered what his hands would feel like on the rest of his body.

Pleasure faded from Jack as he swallowed and lowered his eyes. Will had Elizabeth; he knew that. He was already claimed by another person. Jack wanted Will, and the want was not just for companionship. There was a fire building in his heart and soul that craved something he did not know of. He heard Will talk about Elizabeth before and made note Will mentioned he couldn't breathe around her and his heart fluttered and stomach knotted. Those were sure signs of being in love.

Jack's breathing was unable to keep up with his pounding heart and his stomach was flying from within his person. Only one thought was on his mind; he was in love with Will. He must have been in love with Will. From somewhere within, he felt like this before and relished the feeling. Since Will had Elizabeth he knew he shouldn't want him, yet he wanted Will. He was torn in two pieces. Should he let Will keep Elizabeth? Should he take Will for his own? Yet, he had to ask himself, "does Will love me like I love him?" If there was no love in return there was no need for him to take such concern on the matter.

The question soon became "how does one reveal to another he is in love with him?"

Will smoothed the comb through Jack's straight, chestnut hair. Finally, after hours of pulling and tugging and a few small cries of pain from Jack, the dreadlocks were gone and the hair was below his shoulders and halfway down his back. After a quick trim, the hair was below his shoulders like Will's was. One more soak was needed to remove the oils from his hair. That one more soak was quite a few more soaks, but, in time, the oily surface subsided. He towel dried much of the water from within. A light curl was to be seen from Jack's head.

Jack took his own liberties of shaving his face to match Will's facial hair exactly. He also changed his clothes again, this time wearing simple trousers tucked into his boots, warm tunic, dark green vest, and his former slate colored coat. He pulled his hair behind his head with a simple string of cloth. Much more comfortable about himself in every possible means he could think of he smiled at Will.

"Thank you William," he said before walking on deck.

Staying behind to clean the room, Will sighed deeply and relieved. Finally Jack was gone. Finally he was able to breathe. Something was disturbing him greatly. Hector Barbossa's words were correct in their saying. He did want Jack for the reasons he was hoping were not true. Love. He wanted Jack for love. His heart had taken to Jack more than he would admit to any in person. Seeing Jack with just that towel around his arm was the breaking point. He shouldn't have spent any time at all trailing the contours of Jack's bare body and yet he did. What was worst of all was that he thought Jack had a cute butt and he did. For being as small as he was, there was light muscle. The scars on his body were beautiful and gave him his huge, godly appearance.

He trudged on deck and leaned against the helm stairs while looking at Jack. A smile was on Jack's face as he stood by the rail looking out to the open water. Inhaling the air, he lifted his head toward the sky and his nostrils opened. Jack did have wavy hair. Looking closer, Will took note that Jack's hair was slightly curled as well. The curls were loose and flowed beautifully like small waves on shore. Standing in the sunlight, he found Jack rather handsome. He was simply dressed and comfortably. There was a charm about him that was indescribable.

For once, Jack looked like Jack and not something he wasn't. The "Jack Sparrow" image was just that: an image. He always thought Jack Sparrow was played. This man standing a few paces from him was a true person with a past and, more importantly, a future. Oddly, it wasn't hurting him seeing Jack like that. While beginning to remove the Jack Sparrow image, he felt horrible and tears stung at his eyes. Yet, seeing "just Jack" standing in the sunlight, his heart began thundering in his chest as realizations dawned on him. He pulled on Jack's hair purposely so he could caress Jack's head. He purposely stood in front of Jack's face several times. After that first time Jack slightly nuzzled into his belly, his heart skipped a few beats and shivers passed through his body. He and Jack were touching closely and he wanted more than just touching.

Will sucked in his lips. Alexander and Christian approached Jack. What was so wrong about it? Those two were fine. They seemed to enjoy each other despite both being males. Love was love. Love chose the person. The person never chose love. Jack's facial features were no longer hidden. His face was filled with sharp features, especially his cheekbones. Although his eyes were smaller without the black, they were much, much brighter. That smile on his face caused Will to find breathing difficult. He was glowing. Much of the facial hair that blocked his beautiful smile was trimmed. To his selfishness, he never wanted Jack to remember anything. He wanted to keep this Jack for himself.

He only had one question in mind. "Does he love me like I've come to love him?"

In the attempt to figure out his head, Will walked into his uncle's main cabin that night. He stood quietly for a second—

-)(-

_My words did not slide from my tongue any longer as the grandfather clock in the distance chimed one. A single bell toll rang. I heard its echo from the hall and into Jack's room. Come to think of it, James had been asleep in my lap for quite a while and Emma was curled against my legs. I noticed Jack was asleep in his father's arms and Edward was simply holding him closely in his blanket._

_Anamaria must have put Niamh and Liam to bed because they were gone and she was as well. Thinking, I realized I did watch her walk out holding Liam in her arms. He fell asleep shortly after his last interruption. _

_Lily's eyes were blinking heavily, but her attention was still on me. Aidan's heavy eyes were hardly open, yet I knew he was still listening because he was looking at me with his golden brown orbs. Elizabeth was looking at me with this set glare on her face. Dirk, Marie, and Joceline were long gone from the room I figured. Gabe and Father were barely hanging onto consciousness, considering both were looking at me with ridiculous expressions of exhaust._

_Only one person was awake and that was Grandfather. I noticed him follow my gaze around the room at all those sleeping and noting those who were gone. He seemed as shocked as I did when realization came to him as to the time of night—rather, morning it was._

"_I'll continue a different night," I told him._

"_Will," Father said, opening his eyes. "You're not going to get out of explaining what happens next."_

_I sighed heavily. This is exactly what I was dreading. I wasn't still in love with Jack like I was before, but there was still something there. What happened ten years ago happened ten years ago. It was never meant to happen, but my head was mentally troubled. Neither Jack or I had intended on that, but it happened._

_Even when we thought about it a decade later, we found ourselves disgusted with the memories, but wishing to remember the feelings. It was never the thoughts behind our actions that made it worthwhile it was always the feelings we gave each other. Clearly, I love Elizabeth more than Jack and she needs to realize that. We have three wonderful children and Jack has three children as well. Our relationship was merely because the two of us had lost our minds. From here in the story, I lose my mind further and I was wondering if it was wise to even continue._

"_Let's go to bed Will. We can talk more in the morning. I'm tired and you look it also," said Elizabeth._

_I nodded. My head was aching from tiredness and the thoughts of recalling these events from a decade prior. "Tomorrow morning in the library?"_

"_Not tomorrow," replied Edward. He gingerly removed Jack from his arms to lay his son flat on the bed. "Obvious reasons." _

_I watched him tuck the blanket around Jack's body and Jack immediately subconsciously grabbed the blanket and curled on his side. He favored right side just like me. That was never a difficultly we had while we were in the same bed. Besides, his body is always warm and he preferred to hold me. Looking down at Jack, the feelings of what were came back to me. The feelings Jack brought me were comfort far more than anything I had at the moment. When I need comfort, I find myself searching for Jack Teague even though I know he is nowhere for me to find him. If not Jack then it's father I turn to. But Jack, Jack comforts me. His arms and soft words are comforting. He once told me that when he was upset and needed his pain relieved all I would have to do is smile at him. It wasn't long before I realized that was true._

_Never once have I regretted what Jack and I did. I only regret that it had to be Jack and I. It was wrong. It was so very, very wrong. Should any know other than those that do, Jack and I would be hanged and I knew that as I let him love me on those nights. I was always told to do what was right and not smart. Follow my heart. I always have followed my heart and it's never let me wrong before. I did follow my heart and it felt right to follow my heart._

_Taking my mind temporarily from these thoughts of Jack and I in the past, I pulled my son into my arms and carried him to his room. Sleepily, he helped me undress himself and slip on his sleeping tunic. Immediately after I tucked him in bed, he was asleep. I kissed his little cheek and brushed a few pieces of hair out of his face. Like always, I told him to have good dreams and that I loved him. He knew he was my favorite as did his siblings, but there was a perfectly good reason why and that was another story altogether._

_I myself slipped into my silk sleeping trousers and crawled beside Elizabeth. She fit perfectly in my arms, more than Jack ever did on those nights. I _love_ her not Jack. I love Jack as a brother and comfort. Elizabeth I love as my world. Her condition was what led me to going to Jack for love. I was losing my mind not being able to love her. Every moment I can look at her I find myself counting my blessings and thanking every god and goddess I know that she is still alive and we are together after everything._

_Her quiet breathing soothed me deeply. My mind was finally beginning to settle at ease. The moonlight was another comfort, sneaking through the cracks of our curtains and onto the floor. Before I fell asleep I did hear soft feet sticking and pulling from my flooring. I knew exactly who that was. I was thirty two years old and Father still checked on me before he went to sleep. What more could I say? He knows what happened next in this little bedtime story for everyone. Without my father I would have been lost. For now, I think I'll relax my head and try to sleep. This next part is not going to be easy to explain to anyone, especially my love Elizabeth._

* * *

**A Note from TurtleHeart: well that wraps it up for the first night of the story. i didn't expect this to be so long. since the story is a long one, i figured children weren't going to be awake that long and this would have to occur over a few nights. part two will be up soon entitled _Bedtime Story: And then What Happens?_. so, what are you thinking about where this is going? like it? hate it? curious? questions that need answering? let me know!**

**happy readings!**


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